Two More Miracles
by twice the rogue
Summary: Post-Reichenbach Sherlock comes back to tell John that he's still alive. Then to leaves to destroy Moriarty's web. Only, after he leaves John gets a strange call from Mrs. Hudson. Apparently a baby has been left on the doorstep. Daddy Johnlock fic.
1. Chapter One

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock. Or any of the character mentioned here.

My first Sherlock Fic. Be sure to tell me what you think.

Two more miracles: Chapter one.

John walked out of the psychologist's office. The rain was beating down hard. He moved to flip the collar of his coat up but the movement reminded him of Sherlock. There was a taxi across the road and he should have run for it but instead he took a moment to feel the rain hit his face.

"I never told you... I was always too afraid. The thing is, you were my only friend too. The only real one. I loved you Sherlock. Despite everything, I love you."

* * *

><p>It was too weeks after. It was strange how John's life had turned to Before Sherlock, During Sherlock and after Sherlock. Two weeks after he had seen the man he secretly loved, and hated (well not so secretly) the man who had quickly entered into his life and filled it. Now it was empty again. He sighed as he turned the key in Harry's door. He had been given a month off of work at the clinic. He didn't know if he would return. Somebody had once told him that he would never leave London, well apparently he would. He did not know what to do now with his life. He had two weeks to decide. It seemed wrong. Everything seemed wrong.<p>

He walked down the darkened hallway knowing Harry would not e back for hours. She really had sorted out her drinking problem and was holding down a job well now. He walked passed the open living room door and to the guest room. It was empty. He had only brought clothes and they had been folded up into the draws. If anybody were to look in they would not know the room was currently occupied. Well Sherlock would, he would see that the curtains were open. Not many people remember to open and close the curtains of their guest rooms everyday not unless they were very house proud which the thin layer of dust on top of the pictures told him Harry was not. John sighed again. Another day of watching day time T.V. he was just in time to catch Judge Judy though he had to be sure not to fall asleep and wake up in the middle of Jeremy Kyle. Sherlock had liked Jeremy Kyle, he had always had the longest and loudest arguments with the T.V. when Jeremy Kyle was on.

"_Of course he's not the father, look at the turn up on his jeans."_

John walked back down the hallway and into the front room and stopped dead in his tracks. There was a chance that he was going insane, but he had not gone insane after Afghanistan so why would he go insane after losing the man he loved? Plus he believed this, he believed that if anybody could cheat death it was him.

Sherlock Holmes was sat in Harry's arm chair. His finger steeped and held up to his lips as he stared intensely at a blank spot on the floor.

"Ah John you're back." He said in his usual drawl.

John looked around confused and then held his hand up to his forehead.

"How are you here?" He asked.

"At your sisters, it's the obvious deduction. You did not wish to return to the apartment so where else would you go?"

John opened his mouth to speak several times before he finally managed.

"And the fact that I'm asking you why you are still alive and here and not in the grave which I visited yesterday is not the obvious deduction? Gods!" He flung his arms in the air. "You are the world stupidest genius."

Sherlock stood up on long graceful legs and his brow furrowed slightly.

"You are aware that is an oxymoron?"

"Yes."

"How am I an idiot?"

"In many ways Sherlock." John said sighing and sitting down, or rather collapsing on the couch. "How? Just tell me how?"

Sherlock walked over to him. He knelt down on one knee in front of him.

"You asked for one more miracle. You asked me to stop being dead. I am merely doing as you asked." He answered softly.

John let his hands drop away from his face. He stares at Sherlock. Those blue eyes were staring back into his. They showed an openness that John had only seen n a few occasions. Like a moment when Mrs Hudson had been hurt and when he realized his actions at their Christmas party had cause Molly pain. It was the look that let him know that despite all evidence to the contrary Sherlock did actually care about the people in his life.

"You were there?" John said referring to the graveyard. He had felt so lost, so alone and in so much pain thinking Sherlock was dead and he was watching him, within a few hundred feet of him if he was able to see him.

"Yes. Do I really annoy Mrs Hudson that much?"

"She's hiding the fact that she's upset with you for dying by just being upset with you."

Sherlock looked down to the side as he often did when thinking.

"They're very illogical aren't they?"

"The Human Race? Yes We are. The word there would be WE. "

John had somehow got over the shock of finding his dead friend in his living room and was now growing frustrated.

"Sherlock. Why? Why did you fake your own death? How are you still alive? I saw you fall. I cannot stop seeing you fall."

"That does not matter now."

"Yes. It does Sherlock God..."

"You said you loved me."

* * *

><p>Bit of a short chapter I know but I do love a good cliff hanger. The next ones going to contain slash. Have I got them right?<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

Hi, so this chapter has a M rating, there's some (lots) mentions of sex. I think I should apologize in advance for my dodgy sense of humor, there will be a lot of it.

Two more miracles: Chapter 2

John shook his head.

"What?"

"The psychologist asked you to say those things that you wanted to say to me out loud. When you walked out of the office you said that you loved me, actually you repeated yourself and said I love you."

"You listened into my meeting with a psychologist?"

Sherlock just didn't understand the idea of privacy did he? As in other peoples, he understood his own perfectly well.

"Yes. I was concerned when you made the appointment so I bugged the office to make sure you were okay."

"I think that's the closest you actually get to being sweet."

Sherlock took a step back and started to think about it.

"Thank you."

"It wasn't a compliment."

Sherlock started pacing again. He usually did this when he was thinking. No that wasn't right he usually did this when he was frustrated, when there was a puzzle he couldn't quiet figure out. Was John frustrating him? That made a change it was usually the other way round.

"Talk to me Sherlock, I'm not going to wait another week for you to actually make up your mind."

Sherlock stopped pacing and turned to look at him.

"I have to leave. I have to take out the rest of Moriarty's web. You'll never be safe if I don't."

"I'll never be safe?"

"Yes, isn't it obvious, Moriarty wanted me to die. He burned me; the final chapter of his little story was to have me commit suicide; to ensure that he had several snipers following you and Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade."

"Lestrade?"

"I may like him.. at least his easy for me to understand as he's completely boring and he does let me in on some interesting cases."

"Right. So wait, you faked your own death to save Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade and I."

"And Me."

"What?"

"There is no reason for bad grammar."

"Sherlock, you.. you can come back now right?"

"I'm sure Moriarty would have put in place some kind of payment scheme so that if It turned out I was still alive you would instantly enter the hit lists again. No I must track down and destroy Moriarty's links and resources."

"Can I come with you?"

"No, you're presence and sense of morality would just slow me down, and alert others to my currently living state."

John sighed. He had just found that Sherlock was still alive and yet he was going to loose him again. It was just too cruel.

"It may be a while before I can return to my normal life."

John nodded unable to talk.

"John, you said you loved me."

John gave a nervous laugh.

"Yes. Umm.. I did, didn't I? But In my defense I did think you were dead."

"So the idea of me being dead was in some way romantic?"

"Why do you say romantic? I might have meant it in a you're my best friend I love ya mate way." John said thumping him in the shoulder.

Sherlock looked down at his shoulder before leveling him an icy stare.

"I realize that as a soldier it would be difficult for you experience and then admit to sexual feeling for the same gender."

John shook his head.

"It's not like that." He held his hand to his forehead again. This was hard but there was no way past it.

"It's just you. I mean, I, I don't have sexual thoughts about you, not really. But my life started to revolve around you Sherlock. I admire you more than anybody else. And I... I get you. All those little quirks but I still put up with you because under it all, it's all wroth it."

"You are not attracted to me." Sherlock said as if he needed to hear it straight.

John could not help but look up and down. Sherlock was slim and muscular. His face was not classically proportioned but there was a beauty to it. The perfect cupid bow of his lips the sharp blue eyes and high cheek bones and then the dark curly hair. Also his fingers, so long and fine. He could not deny it.

"Okay, maybe a little."

There were several responses John expected to his admittance. The most likely would be that Sherlock would call him an idiot. What wasn't on John's list was to kiss him. Yet, that is what he did. He grabbed his face roughly between his two hands and smashed his lips to John's in a way that lacked all finesse but was still in John's mind one of the hottest things he had ever experienced. Sherlock's lips were warm and tasted a little like coffee. It was a little different from kissing a woman, Sherlock certainly had more force behind him and he was rather taller so he was bending his head sharply down creating a strange angle for their lips to meet and there was the way he pushed his tongue into his mouth almost as if he was trying to dare John to fight for dominance over him. Still, it was not shocking because Sherlock was a man; it was shocking because Sherlock was Sherlock.

Eventually, (but not giving enough time for John had a chance to fully determine what was happening, why it was happening and whether he was actually going to respond in anyway except staring blankly at Sherlock's cheek and letting him explore his mouth with his tongue) Sherlock pulled away. Before John could catch a glimpse of his expression he had turned his back on him and taken a few steps away. When he turned around again he had that smug little Sherlock smile on his face. The one he got when he realized that a case was going to get 'fun'.

"What? You've got that look on your face and to be honest it's kind of scaring me."

"What look?"

"The 'I like this experiment it's challenging' look."

"I do like this experiment and I imagine it will be challenging."

"Sherlock, what did we learn from the hound of the Baskaville case?"

"Many things John."

"I am referring to what you may have learnt about me."

Sherlock took a moment to think this over before answering.

"You don't appreciate being experimented on?"

"Yes."

"It's not exactly that I am experimenting on you John." Sherlock said twirling one of his hands. "More that there is an experiment I wish to carry out with you as both partner and willing participant. Apparently being an unwilling participant is considered very unpleasant and I'd be committing a criminal act."

"Sherlock, just what are you saying?" John was starting to feel rather tired.

Sherlock stepped a little closer. There was something very intense about the way he was staring at John.

"You get me. You matter. I care about you. You are the only person in my life who has all three of those components."

"Right, so… what you're saying is?"

"Love is not quantifiable."

"You are saying you love me?" John could not quiet believe his ears, was Sherlock even capable of that? Then again two minutes before John would not think Sherlock was capable of kissing somebody so it seemed he knew very little of the man behind the genius after all. Except maybe his like of Jeremy Kyle because that was definitely not the genius speaking.

"I do not pay attention to things that are unquantifiable."

"So, you don't love me."

'For Christ sake make up your mind man.' John thought.

"I am saying that as I do not pay any attention to it, it may have taken me a while to figure out that was what I was experiencing."

"So you do love me?"

"God John, Yes, don't you ever listen?"

Sherlock loved him. Sherlock Holmes the man he had been fighting with his emotions over for months loved him. John couldn't help himself from smiling and this uncontrollable physical reaction told him something. He didn't really mind right at that moment what the fact that he loved Sherlock Holmes, a man, who loved him back meant. He would have hours to think that over later, hours to come to terms with the fact that even at his age it was possible to learn something new about himself. Hours to come to terms with the fact that all those times he said the phrases 'not in a relationship' 'purely platonic' and 'for the record I am not gay' he was lying to himself.

"Sherlock."

"Yes John."

"I think.." John licked his lip and looked down. "I think.. I'm going to kiss you now."

John took a step towards Sherlock who also took a step forwards to they meet each other in the middle of the room . The kiss was hungry and desperate. They clung to each other. It was so good, John has never felt this before. This .. need. It was Sherlock who started to undress them. John's shirt dropping to the floor. John broke the kiss needing to breath. Sherlock's attention drifted downward to the little pucker of skin where John was shot, in the shoulder but it was from above so the exit mark comes just above his heart. Most of his past lovers had ignored it, it was an ugly little pucker, with spider marks coming out of it where he had to widen the wound to get bits of debris out. But Sherlock kissed it, gently and sweetly before running his fingers over it.

They were soon kissing again, hands tangled in hair and ghosting over well defined though very different shaped chests. Sherlock was hairless, completely hairless, his skin was smooth but not like a woman, no he was hard. And he was hard, it was against his stomach pushed flush against him but it didn't freak him out it just sent shivers of anticipation and lust straight through him. Somehow they made it to John's room. And callapsed on top of each other on the bed.

Then Sherlock was reaching for his belt and John had to rest his hands on Sherlock's to stop him from continuing.

" Sherlock, before we continue I have to ask, have you ever done this before?" John asked breathlessly.

"Undone a belt buckle?" Sherlock replied quirking his eyebrows as he hovered above him.

"No had sexual intercourse?"

"Of course I've done it before. Once. " Sherlock went from annoyed to thoughtful in sixty seconds "With a woman, I believe the general motion and aims are the same though."

"What makes you think you're going to be on top?"

Sherlock's eyes widened. He got up off the bed and pressed his hand to his mouth walking backwards and forwards as if thinking. John silently cursed himself.

"Look Sherlock I wasn't saying I wouldn't consider..""

"Okay."

"What?"

"I have run analysis on the situation and I find that a good way to proceed."

"Right. "

John started to think about the situation he was in. He was about to have sex with a man. He really hoped this was going to work out alright. Thinking was really not good.

"Just a second." Sherlock said getting up and walking over to where his coat had been flung at some point. He pulled a tube of lube out of his pocket and put it on the bedside table. John's eyes widened.

"You brought lube?"

"I reasoned that sexual intercourse may be a possible outcome of this conversation."

John's mouth dropped open, at some point Sherlock had thought about having sex with him, and he had thought it such a good idea that he brought lube. And he thought that he was pasted being surprised by Sherlock's actions.

"Yet no condoms."

"Have you noticed that I do not wear gloves when doing experiments John?"

"Right, I forgot the great Sherlock Holmes can't catch syphilis."

"You have syphilis?" Sherlock asked again looking confused.

"No."

"Good, that would be a little off putting."

John sighed as Sherlock sat back on the bed.

"I am irritating you again aren't I?"

He said placing his hand on John's jaw. He leaned into the touch.

"Only a little."

"I apologize."

Sherlock leaned down and kissed him gently. Then not so gently. Then their hangs started moving and grasping again and John felt like he was on fire because he was just filled with so much Need.

* * *

><p>Harry came home from work early. It had been such a quiet day and her boss had ad that one person in the group of three could have the day off. Heather, the very sexy but unfortunately straight new girl had suggested they draw straws but Sandra had known that Harry's brother John was in a bad place and had suggested that she go. Harry was grateful, despite the fact that she and John did not get on most of the time she cared about her brother enough to have had a lot of sleepless nights in the last two weeks worrying about him.<p>

It must be hard to live with somebody for eighteen months; to grow to be their friend to admire them and to become extraordinarily attached to them. Then to have the rug pulled out from under your feet by finding out that everything they had ever said to you was a lie. That in fact when you thought you were off solving crimes and helping humanity you were actually being used by an attention seeking sociopath who was actually committing the crimes; then to have him commit suicide in front of you.

She opened the door of her apartment and walked to John's room to tell him that she was home. What she heard made her pause.

"Ow, that hurts." It was a deep voice she did not recognize. She placed her ear close to the door.

"It gets you back for calling me short then. "

That was John's voice. And then a deep chuckle followed by Johns laughter.

"John will you please start your thrusting, I am growing impatient. I believe you will find my prostate slightly to the...Ahgh,... I see you do not require assistance."

"Sherlock, do you ever shut up?"

Harry walked away.

People grieve in different ways. If her little brother needed to role play fucking Sherlock with some guy then that was fine. Whatever it took to get him back on his feet was alright with her.

* * *

><p>Sherlock was quiet except for little reverberating moans and occasionally whispering Johns name reverently. John had never felt so connected to somebody else before, there was a strange calm about him, he felt a kind of tenderness and the want to just hold the man in front of him, perfect in all his imperfections. Sherlock's long limbs tangled with his, his hips bucked upwards making his smooth and hard member brush against John's stomach. He trembled and gasped his long fingers seemed to be constantly moving, grasping at Johns shoulders or hips or hair silently begging, come close to me, kiss me, move faster, make me ache.<p>

John did not know how long they were together before Sherlock's muscles tensed around him, so strong they made him give out a muffled yell. Sherlock's eyes were closed his head tilted backward on his pillow for a moment and those beautiful lips pursed. John barely noticed the squirts of hot liquid against his stomach, Sherlock was magnificent. He gave a long sigh as his muscles relaxed and he seemed to sprawl completely relaxed onto the bed.

With a whispered 'I love you' and a shuddering moan John came into his best friend.

* * *

><p>Sherlock's fingers were grazing down John's back. It was kind of nice actually. He felt very calm and content as if all this was very normal. But things that involved Sherlock didn't usually fall within the range of normal.<p>

"Sherlock?"

"Yes John?"

"Not to sound like a teenage girl but are there any particular thoughts or feelings going through your mind at the moment?"

"According to both the British, Canadian and American Kennel clubs the Labrador Retriever is the most popular breed of dog. In 1925 though the most popular dog owned was the German Shepard probably due to the popularity of Rin Tin Tin."

John pursed his lips, why was Sherlock so frustrating? Sherlock didn't seem to notice his annoyance and bent his head down to kiss his temple.

"Sherlock, I was hoping for an answer that may in some way connect to me, or you or you and me or what we just did."

"Oh. The intercourse. It was good. Very enjoyable, thank you John."

John took a deep breath.

"Sherlock?"

"Yes John." Sherlock said as if John was being very trying. Yet his hands still ran down his back scratching lightly.

"I'm glad you are still alive."

"Please don't tell me that you are now going to become sentimental."

"Just a little bit yeah."

Sherlock tilted his head so that he could look down at him. They both burst out laughing.

"Oh God Sherlock, what are we doing?"

"I thought we were enjoying a post coital moment." Sherlock laughed. "I don't suppose you'll allow me a cigarette?"

"You suppose right."

"Oh well. I can live with that."

They lied together in contented silence for a little longer.

"Is it always so messy?"

"This is the first time I have been with a man Sherlock."

"Yes, but you are a doctor so it is closer to your area of expertise."

"Yes." John relented. "Sex is messy."

"You know I am going to have to leave soon?"

"I know. I would just prefer not to think about it."

"John. Not thinking about it is not going to stop me from leaving and I have some thing's I need you to do."

John sighed and buried his face into his the warm nook of Sherlock's shoulder.

"Go on then."

"First, if while I am away Mother gets ill you must tell her I am still alive so that she arranges things correctly."

John nodded. I shall keep in touch with Mycroft.

"My apologizes. I know that is somewhat arduous a task."

John chuckled. "Just come back quickly."

"I shall try. John, I accessed some savings."

"You have savings?"

"That does not matter, what I am saying is that I like Baker Street and I know you like Baker Street. I can still continue to take care of half the rent. Or rather I will continue to pay half the rent whether you choose to stay there or not. It has already been arranged."

"Oh right, am I to be the kept man?"

"Don't be melodramatic John. Lastly I need you to make sure that Mrs. Hudson doesn't give my science equipment away to a load of prepubescent imbeciles."

"Right, can do."

"Good." Sherlock shifted beneath him and John moved surprised to see him get out of the bed and pull on his jeans. He watched Sherlock get dressed allowing himself those few minutes to try to memorize Sherlock's shoulders, the dimples at the small of his back, the strong but lean muscles at the tops of his arms.

Sherlock turned to him, he kissed him very quick and hard on the mouth.

"I do love you John. But let's not get sentimental now. I shall be back in a few years."

"A few years?" John couldn't help the little gulp at the end of the sentence.

He blinked his eyes trying not to cry (because he was a soldier for Christ's sake) as Sherlock goes to the door and stood there for a moment rather awkwardly.

"Right then, see you later."

"Bye Sherlock."

Sherlock turned and walked out of sight.

John laid on his bed waiting for the sound of the door closing. It still seemed too much like that sound was the doo closing on this part of his life, the best part of his life. The man he loved had come back but only for a few hours and now he was going off somewhere and John would remain in limbo. He would not know if Sherlock was alive or had managed to get himself killed, he did not know if Sherlock would return or how long it would take or what would happen between them if he did. A small part of his mind thought it might be batter if Sherlock was still dead. But he knew that was not true. His life was a far better just knowing that Sherlock existed. He didn't have to be close to him, he just had to remember that Sherlock had faked his own death to save him, that Sherlock was doing this partly for him and that Sherlock had tried to say that he loved him. That would have to be enough. He would have to have faith that he would return, after all he had already given John one miracle.

* * *

><p>The next day he went back to London, moved back into Baker Street and took back his old job at the clinic.<p>

The day after he was working at the clinic when his phone started buzzing he wrote out a prescription for the patients piles and told him to go easy on all the red meats then checked his phone.

It was Mrs. Hudson so he quickly rang her back

"Oh John come quick. Some body has left something here for Sherlock."

"Are you alright?"

He asked at the upset tone in her voice.

"Oh I don't know what to do."

Panic spread through him, did somebody know that Sherlock was alive, was it a threat?

"I'll be there in about fifteen minutes. Just keep away from it alright?"

"Okay."

He told the receptionist that there was family emergency and grabbed a cab back to Baker Street. He threw too much money at the driver in a rush to get into the house.

"Mrs. Hudson?" He called opening the door.

"Up here dear." She shouted from up the stairs.

He ran up them two at a time. Mrs. Hudson was looking worried and upset. He put his hand on her arm and bent down to look at her, she looked more confused then afraid.

"What is it?"

Mrs. Hudson pointed to something outside the door to their (Sherlock' and his) flat. It looked like a large Noah's basket. He took a few steps closer not knowing what to expect. What he saw truly shocked him.

It was a Noah's basket, complete with Baby. John stares for a long moment completely shell shocked (and he knew what the felt like). The baby had blue eyes and a splattering of dark brown hair. It also had very prominent cupid bow lips like those John had never before seen on a baby. John looked it over, healthy, well fed, two months old his doctors training told him. The baby blinked up at him blowing tiny bubbles out of the corner of his mouth as it's podgy legs kicked up under the blankets.

There was a note lying onto of the blue blankets, scrawled and curvaceous handwriting said.

_Dear Sherlock,_

_I am not the motherly type. Take care of him._

_I.A._

"It's definitely his son." Mrs Hudson remarked. "Looks just like him."

"Yes. It is." John said.

"Oh Sherlock. You Bastard."

* * *

><p>So this is where imagining what first time sex between John and Sherlock got me.<p>

If you like it review it, or even better tell a friend.


	3. Chapter 3

Two Years and Eight Months Later.

John dumped the heavy shopping bags on the floor with a sigh. The slight ache in his arms after he had carried the three full bags up the stairs was a reminder that he was no longer a young man. He was no longer the soldier of his youth. There were winkles around his eyes, his hair was growing grey and he had that tiredness at the end of a long day that never used to be there. The soldiers life had damaged his body, made him age faster.

But part of him knew it was not the years that made him feel old but the sedateness of his life. The eight to five at the clinic, he knew the reasons he had to do it. He would do anything for the little boy ho had been left on his doorstep. But he missed the days of adventure. He missed the mysteries, he missed the days at the morgue and the comments on his blog. He missed Sherlock. But Sherlock was long gone and the mysteries and madness with him. What was left was order and schedules and trips to the park and healthy lunches. And that was okay. That had to be okay.

John lifted the bags again ready to carry them through to the kitchen. He froze. He looked around trying to work out if what he was seeing was real. It was so like two years ago. Sherlock had not aged. He still wore a long black coat though it was not the same one. He still wore the dark coloured shirt and black trousers under it. His hair was still the same length. He sat still not looking at John, his fingers stepped in front of his face.

John sighed.

"I don't believe it."

Sherlock looked up at him. Those clear blue eyes meet his and the corner of his mouth turned up slightly.

"John. You redecorated. I can't remember that being part of the deal."

John had indeed redecorated, made the room a light green and got rid of all the clutter. He'd brought a blue rug and curtains and thrown brightly coloured blankets and cushions on the sofas. John shook his head and said the first thing that came into his mind, the most important thing.

"Sherlock, it better be over. You better not have brought any trouble into this home."

Sherlock's brow winkled.

"You wanted to come with me two years ago."

"A lot of thing's change in two year. Is it over?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." Sherlock sounded insulted this time.

"Good, now what are you doing here?"

"I live here..or at least I used to and I was under the impression that you would not be completely adverse to my returning. Unless of course that has changed in the last .. two years eight months?"

"You never rang, no letters, no notes. no nothing."

"Busy, traceable. Has a lot changed?"

"Yes Sherlock, A lot had changed. Such a lot."

"I see."

Sherlock said standing up and beginning to pace.

"I was under the impression that you had .. feelings.. of a romantic nature towards me."

"I did." John said. What went unsaid was the fact that he still did. How could he not think of Sherlock everyday when the little boy who looked just like him was running around| As time went by John got more annoyed with Sherlock, all that time and no contact. He didn't know if he would ever return and if he did then what? He had missed so much and he wasn't the naturally fatherly type. He had tried to stop himself of thinking about him, but nothing could stop his dreams.

"Ah." Sherlock said glancing at him quickly then back away. "Using the past tense. Is there somebody else?" There was a slight hesitation in the question.

"Yeeesss." John said drawing the word out and trying to ignore the way that Sherlock's eyes focused on the floor and his mouth set into a frown.

"But it's not what you think. " John wiped his forehead, he was starting to get a sharp pain behind his eyes. He had not had that type of headache in over two years. It was a Sherlock Holmes headache.

"My time to ask a question?" He said.

"Irene Adler is alive."

"That is a statement not a question."

"Stop avoiding it Sherlock."

"How did you know?"

"That night you said you had had one other sexual encounter? Do you remember?"

"Yes."

"Irene Adler."

"I did not say that.

"But it was her, correct, and she's still alive, correct?"

"How did you…"

"And it was I'd say about eleven months before our night together."

Sherlock had frozen in place. He had that look on his face he usually got when there was one part of a puzzle missing and he was mad at himself for not seeing it.

"John, what is this about."

"JOHN DEAR."

It was Mrs. Hudson's voice calling out followed by the sound of the door swinging open. John just about had time to think 'oh shit' before she had crossed the threashold.

"He's been a …" She stopped speaking when she saw Sherlock stood smiling at her in the middle of the front floor. Her mouth opened, her skin went pale and before John had the chance to rush to her she had keeled over hitting the floor unconscious.

"Oh Christ."

John bent down next to her, he took her pulse and checked her breathing automatically. He looked up to give Sherlock instructions but saw him looking behind him. John followed his eyes. He was looking at the small boy who had been hiding behind Mrs. Hudson. John sighed again.

The boy was now two months short of his third birthday (or what John had chosen to be his birthday, it was close enough to the actual unknown date). He was like most toddlers, he had that pudginess around his face and limbs that he would soon start to grow out of and that habit of watching everything that was going on and taking it all in. He wore jeans and trainers and a red t-shirt with a train on it. His eyes were bright blue and his long brown hair (he screamed whenever he went to the hairdressers so John made it as rare an occurrence as possible) hung down in ringlets that Mrs. Hudson always tucked behind his ears.

"Heart Attack?" Sherlock asked drawing John's attention back to him.

"No, just passed out."

"Good. Who is that child?"

"That, oh that's just your son. Don't worry about him you never worry about anybody else." John snapped. Sherlock's eyes widened. He looked at the boy for a long minute. The boy ignored him, he walked over to Mrs. Hudson and sat down next to her to stroke her hair clearly worried.

"It's alright Hamish." John assured him reaching over to touch his shoulder. "She's just taking a nap. Let's put her to bed shall we?"

Hamish nodded solemnly.

"Sherlock help me move her."

Sherlock was still staring at Hamish but he moved to help John pick up Mrs. Hudson and carry her into John's room. Once she was laid on the bed John checked her head for cuts or lumps. He would have to wait until she was conscious to fully check her over. His biggest worry was her hip, it caused her enough hassle without her throwing it out or bruising it.

"This is your fault."

"How is it my fault?"

"For being dead!" John shouted letting go of years of anger. "For not finding another way. For leaving me and Hamish and for turning back up here without a word and making Mrs. Hudson faint."

Sherlock took a step back and hesitated.

"I am sorry that there was not another way."

"You could have written. It's not like you had to put your name. I would have known it was you and then at least I would have known you were alive."

Sherlock took a deep breath and looked at the floor again.

"I am sorry John."

Two apologies in one day from Sherlock Holmes was nothing short of a miracle but it didn't do anything to abate John's anger. The next words however did.

"I have missed you."


	4. Chapter 4

Two more miracles chapter four

John knew that Sherlock was following him as he walked back into the living room but he didn't turn around. He was determined not to pay any attention to the man. Missed him? He had missed him? How dare he say that when he had never written? If John missed somebody then he would do whatever it took to get in contact with them. John himself had missed Sherlock and if he had had the first clue where to look for the insufferable man he would have written to him. A long note reminding him that he loved him, that he thought he was amazing and that he was back in Baker street waiting for him. Oh and by the way, you have a son. I named him Hamish because after a week of referring to him as 'the mini Holmes' Mrs. Hudson decided that he needed a name. 

I put in the adoption papers yesterday. Bit difficult to explain where exactly I got a baby but being a doctor they were willing to believe that a) a baby had been left on my doorstep and b) I am fit to look after a child. I'm going to be Uncle John. I've no idea if that's appropriate but I don't exactly have anybody I can ask about what to have your absent one nights stands child calls you. 

He said his first word yesterday, it was Dog. He likes animals. He always smiles at them on our walks.

You've missed so much. 

He's walking and he calls me Onkie John. Are you ever coming back?

He sighed and looked down at Hamish who was sitting on the rug next to his toy box and starting to pull out the little toy bricks. He was a quiet child, unusually serious perhaps but very loving. Sometimes as he watched him John felt his heart swell. It was difficult to remind himself that the boy was not actually his son. He had done the three am feeds and been thrown up on and peed on. He had watched the child grow and tried desperately to keep up with all the laundry and housework and shopping and juggle the baby and work. He had fallen asleep sometimes in his office absolutely exhausted. He had smiled and laughed at the first steps and been fascinated by how fast the boy went from first words to second to twentieth. It had all been worth it. He was starting to think of himself as Hamish's father, last week he had called Hamish his son in a conversation with his receptionist. Then this week Sherlock had turned up. John just did not know what to think.

"You okay Hamish?" He asked smiling at the child he loved.

Hamish nodded.

"Mrs. Hudson has gone to bed. What do you want for lunch? Ham sandwiches?"

Hamish looked up and nodded again.

"Nana."

"You want a Banana?"

" Ba...nana." Hamish tried again.

"What's the word?"

"Pwease Onkle John."

John turned and looked at Sherlock. He was staring at Hamish again and it was so odd. They both had the same expression of concentration on their faces.

"Hamish come here."

The little boy looked up and then placed his hands on the floor getting onto all fours before standing up and running to John. He grabbed his legs and hid behind them. John found himself sighing again. Hamish was shy, but only if he felt he had to talk in front of somebody other than John, Mrs. Hudson or the women at his daycentre.

"Hamish, this is my... friend." He was certainly not going to introduce him to a father who may decide that he needs to disappear again or is going to get arrested.

Hamish looked Sherlock up and down wearily. Sherlock just stared straight at John questioning look in his eyes.

"He scary."

"He's even more so when you get to know him." John said then wishing he had bit his tongue he bent down and took Hamish by the shoulders. "He's really nice. Why don't you show him your bricks?"

Hamish nodded.

John turned to Sherlock.

"Sherlock play bricks with him and for god's sake don't be yourself."

Sherlock stared at John for a long moment and then he bent down in front of Hamish. He smiled widely as he held his hand out to him.

"Hello, Sherlock Holmes. Pleasure to meet you."

Hamish looked at his hand looked up at John then turned around to play with his bricks.

John decided to just leave them to it for five minutes. He doubted that Sherlock could do too much psychological damage in just five minutes. Well, to a two year old who probably only understood one in five words in every sentence Sherlock spoke. He needed the time in the kitchen away from the both of them. He needed a little time to think. He shut the double doors behind him and started making the lunch.

How were they meant to do this? How was he meant to introduce Sherlock to his son? To teach him how to look after him? Then what would happen to John? And did Sherlock even want anything to do with Hamish? He had come back because he wanted to see John but he doubted that they would make any sort of family. Sherlock was not the sort of person who should be around a kid, he was the sort of person who got blown up and shot at and sometimes arrested. And he was the kind of guy who thought that being blown up and shot at and arrested was a good price to pay for an interesting puzzle. Domestic bliss was not in his vocabulary.

There was only so much time John could spend arranging slices of sweet red pepper on a plate. Eventually he knew he had to go back in and face the reality of the situation. His ex-lover (if he could call him that after one night perhaps ex-partner would be batter, more ambiguous) and his child.

As John slid the doors back open he saw Sherlock sat on the floor with Hamish holding a brick and listing what sounded like chemical compounds.

"What are you doing?" John asked trying to make his tone as conversational as possible so as to not upset Hamish.

"I'm explaining to Hamish the chemical composition of blue paint."

"He doesn't understand that, he's two."

Hamish smiled and pointed to the brick Sherlock was holding.

"Blue Brick."

Sherlock gave John his little 'I told you so smile'.

Hamish reached down and picked up another brick and handed it to Sherlock.

"Red Brick."

"Ah, yes well the chemical components are actually quiet different..."

"Hamish go wash your hands it's lunch time."

`The little boy ran off to the bathroom. John put the sandwich and a banana on the coffee table. Then he turned to Sherlock.

"Let's talk." He said walking back into the kitchen and making sure to close the door firmly behind them so that Hamish would not overhear. He and Sherlock spent a moment staring at each other in silence.

"He is my son." Sherlock finally stated managing to look slightly bashful.

"You figured that one out have you?"

"It is obvious. "

"He looks like you."

"That is why it is obvious."

They reached another impasse. Again it was Sherlock who broke it.

"Why does he call you Uncle John?"

John shifted his weight and licked his lip. This was becoming one of his top ten difficult conversations including three where he had to tell the wives of his fallen companions that their husbands were not coming back and the time when he had walked in on a teenage Harry performing fellatrix on the girl he had asked to the prom.

"He was left here Sherlock, with a note from Irene Adler saying she was not mothering material. Which is obvious seeing as she left a baby with a supposedly dead man."

"She probably did not know that I was supposed to e dead she has been living out in Asia. Still doesn't answer my question."

"I raised him. I had no choice, he had nobody else."

"There was Mycroft or Mother."

"Mycroft and mumsy think that both you and Irene Alder are dead. How are you supposed to make a baby from the grave? I mean I know you are the great all knowing Sherlock Holmes but I think that ones past you."

Sherlock did that thing he does where he turns slightly to one side as if literally looking at something from a different perspective.

"You are annoyed at me."

"Yes Sherlock ,I am bloody annoyed."

"You are aware I did not contact you so that I would not risk putting you or myself into any danger."

"There must have been some way."

"There was not. John, a lot of people were involved in Moriarty's web. A lot of them are now dead. It was better that I had time to cover my tracks and collect irrefutable evidence of all moriarty's criminal involvements."

"You mean you killed a lot of people and couldn't let anybody know you were alive before you had a chance to get rid of any evidence that you killed them."

"Do you even understand the term plausible deniability?"

John sighed for perhaps the tenth time in an hour and slammed his hand down on the sideboard.

"John, you are showing physical signs of stress."

"No shit Sherlock. You can't have him. I adopted him, I am legally his guardian and you…you are not ready to be a parent. You can't even keep a pot plant alive."

Sherlock looked at him slightly confused and opened and closed his mouth several times. John looked down, he had been too harsh.

"Look, it's just, you left him here and I had no idea what to do and I care deeply about him."

"Irene Adler left him here. I've only known of his existence for twenty-two minutes and.." Sherlock looked down at his watch. "Thirty seven seconds."

"What do you intend to do about your son?" John asked slowly.

"I do not know."

"Oh great. That you don't know."

"John." Sherlock sighed and started pacing again. "I have never been good with children. Their minds are not fully mature. They do not see the world in the same way that the rest of the general populous does."

"Neither do you. Sherlock, you've just found out you're a father can you try to show some kind of emotional reaction."

"I do not know the correct reaction. I'm sure if you give me time.."

"Time? It's not a case Sherlock. It's not something that you can figure out. You just know somewhere deep inside of you."

"That's not the way I work John, you know that."

John let out a long breath in exasperation. They were quiet again. John started fiddling with the utensils in the washing up bowl.

"Would it help or jeopardize my case if I told you that I thought of you at least once a day and often imagined using my mouth to stimulate your penis until orgasm."

John drops the plate he was holding. As he automatically bent down to pick it up he stared at Sherlock. How could he just casually come out with these things?

"My god you really are gay aren't you?"

"Yes. I would judge you to be too."

"I am not gay."

"You said you loved me and then you kissed me and then you fucked me. I would say you at least have some bisexual tendencies."

"Maybe. " John breathed out. He could admit his attraction to Sherlock. He could even admit that he used to think himself in love with him (he didn't know anymore it had just been too long and it was just too complicated) but still, he did not understand it. There had been lots of woman and only one man and that day was starting to fade from his memory.

They both turned as the kitchen door slide open. Mrs. Hudson walked in still looking slightly pales and shaky on her feet.

"Hello Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock smiled.

John rushed over to take her arm and lead her to a chair.

"Mrs. Hudson, sit down Are you okay?"

"Oh. No. I don't understand. He's meant to be dead." Mrs. Hudson said looking at John with a very lost expression.

"I'm not dead."

"He pretended to be dead because of Moriarty. He was going to kill you and I."

"What? But… but.. what about all those lies?"

"They were lies Mrs. Hudson. Moriarty's lies. Sherlock is the real deal. Think about it, could anybody really pretend to be that big an ass?"

Sherlock's brow furrowed as he frowned.

"No… I suppose not." Mrs. Hudson said putting her head in her hands. "Oh, this is a lot to take in."

"I know. It's a lot for all of us. Mrs. Hudson, are you hurt? You had quiet the nasty fall."

"Yes. I'm fine. But what's going to happen now?"

"I don't know."

* * *

><p>Unhappy with this one. I know it's meant to be an awkward situation but it was awkward to write as well.<p> 


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

"Well I can tell you what's going to happen." Sherlock announced.

John and Mrs. Husdon looked over at him.

"You do?" John asked. A part of him knew he was not going to like the answer to much, but the other part wanted him to be the brilliant problem solver he remembered. He was the man who had cheated death.

"Yes. I have a box of information that you are going to take to Lestrade. It contains all evidence the about Moriarty I can find. It unfolds the webs that he created. It should be sufficient to clear my name."

John felt a little rush of excitement. The adventure had started again. But then he came back to earth. The adventures were over for him, it was time to finally grow up.

Sherlock pointed over to a big box in the corner of the kitchen that John had somehow been able to miss. Inside were lots f brown paper files and the tops of evidence bags and as far as he could see a few computer disks.

"There's more evidence, I've got it locked away, but that should be enough to get Lestrade to start asking questions the evidence will just prove the point."

John knew that Sherlock wanted him to take the box to Lestrade it felt like old times, when Sherlock would just expect him to do things without questioning and without any thought of the consequences. Of course John always questioned and always tried to think of the consequences though often they were completely beyond what he would expect. Part of him wanted to rebel. Wanted to say no, now you will have a little more appreciation for me. But it was a small thing to cause a fuss over. A important thing, he couldn't spend the rest of his life trying to hide the fact that Sherlock Holmes was alive from everybody.

"I'm not going to get involved in all your shenanigans again. " John said thinking at least putting up a little defence would do him good even if he knew where this was going. There was a shot of pain down his leg he carefully eased his weight from one leg to the other.

"Leg hurting again John?"

Sherlock said not missing anything. John was about to snap and call him a Bastard when he heard a small voice behind him.

"Finished."

Hamish stood by the door waving his plastic plate in the air. John plastered a smile on his face and bent down to take the plate and banana skin off the little boy.

"Good Boy."

"Bicwick?" Hamish asked.

"Biscuit One."

John reached for the cupboard for the familiar lion shaped cookie jaw and hand Hamish a chocolate chip cookie.

"What do you say?" He prompted.

"Thank you."

"Why don't you go with Mrs. Hudson and watch the fuzzles?" John suggested knowing that the rare treat of TV. was enough to get Hamish out of the way for a little while.

"Yeah!" Hamish said excitedly looking up at Mrs Hudson.

John sent Mrs. Hudson a pleading look. She nodded and held her hand out to Hamish leading him back into the front room. John waited for the sound of insipid music to start up before he turned back to Sherlock.

"Admit it you can't live without the danger John."

"I have to Sherlock. I have a child."  
>"Yes, mine." Sherlock said in the annoyed tone of voice he used whenever it seemed people were being stupid.<p>

"Yes, yours. But he doesn't know who you are and he loves me and I owe it to him to do my best to look after him."

"Owe him?"

"All children deserve a stable home."

"Your dad was absent a lot wasn't he?"

"Stop trying to be clever you already know that he was."

"Take it to Lestrade John, help me clear my name. Please. We can take things from there."

Sherlock rarely said please and rarely had that ever slighlty vulnerable beseeching look in his eyes.

John sighed and turned from Sherlock. He felt like he could not stand to look at the man whom he usually found so beautiful.

"Mrs Hudson. I'm going out. Will you babysit?"

Mrs. Hudson rushed back in on quiet feet eyes still wide from the shock of seeing Sherlock alive.

"Alright dear." She said after a long moment. "Does he need bathing or anything?"

"No he can do that himself, just make sure he doesn't put any bits of disembodied flesh in the fridge where Hamish can find them."

* * *

><p>The police offices had not changed. Same cold institutionalized chairs and tables and felt boards. As he walked in Lestrade was coming out of his office already alerted by the receptionist that he was here. John put the box on the floor just as Lestrade meet him and clapped him on the shoulder.<p>

"John."

"Hi Greg."

"It's been a while. How are you?"

"I'm fine thank you. "

"And little Hamish? He's coming up three now right?" Lestrade said his eyebrows furrowing slightly trying to remember the adopted boy's birthday.

"Still another two months. Don't worry you'll get the birthday party invite."

Lestrade smiled. He and John had shared quite a few beers in the last couple of years. Usually in the house as John couldn't get out. They had watched sports or talked of old times. Occasionally they had discussed cases and John had given his input, his analytical skills honed by his time with Sherlock. During that time he and Hamish had become friends, in the way that adults become friends with children, occasionally playing and laughing at each other.

"Wouldn't miss it. So... What's in the box?"

John took a deep breath. Here we go again...

"Jim Moriarty ."

Lestrade looked at him with slight surprise followed by something close to pity. He glanced around nervously and lowered his voice.

"Look John both you and I may believe that Jim Moriarty existed and that Sherlock was the real deal. But the general consensus is that Jim Moriarty was just a character and that Sherlock killed the innocent man who played him."

John nodded slowly, the things that people said about Sherlock still pained him. Lestrade put his hand on John's shoulder.

"There's not much that I can do about it. I'd loose my job if I tried to push this. I know you mss him John, even I miss him sometimes and I didn't even like him that much. But I believed in him. And I believe this is unfair, but John, you need to get on with your life. You need to concentrate on Hamish."

"Yes, but this is going to prove that Moriarty did exist and that he was the head of some big criminal fraternity."

Lestrade looked at him as if he had gone insane. He didn't quite believe the words himself. It had been three years; things were not going to just go back to how they were. The public and the police force had believed they had been fooled and they knew how to hold a grudge even against a dead man. None of them were going to want to admit they had been double fooled.

Lestrade sighed and looked at the box picking out one of the brown paper folders.

"How?" He asked as he flipped the page open.

"I don't know."

Lestrade sighed again and looked at him.

"How do you not know?"

"I didn't do all this."

John waved at the box.

"How could I I've got a job and a toddler?"

"Then.."

"It was left on my doorstep, with a note."

Lestrade raised an eyebrow but continued to flip through the brown folder then flinging it down on the table he picked up another. Then the only red file, the thickest one of the lot. By the time he was done with that one he had a mixture of confusion and tiredness in his face.

"Do you know what these are?"

"I've not looked; I was supposed to bring them straight to you."

"Well. This one," He pointed to the one on the table. "Is a detailed file on a prominent Russian Gangster who was found dead over a year ago. This one here is information on a slave trade circle that the Met and the Albanian services were working to bringing down. We had a man on the inside, just as they were getting close to bringing them down the whole thing callapsed. The top three men or at least those we suspected to be the top three men disappeared and the rest of the circle callapsed. Then twelve women who had been in transport suddenly arrived on our door. Two homeless women brought them in. They gave us all the information we needed to catch the remaining bad guys. All that information is written in this file.

John listened to what Sherlock had been doing with his time, making the world a better place, whilst John had sat at home hating him for being gone.

"This one." Greg picked up the red folder.

"This one is on Jim Moriarty, Its page numbers correlate to those on the files. I've already looked up these two and it seems to suggest that Moriarty was in contact with both the Russian gangster and the slave ring."

"Right." John said, he knew the questions he couldn't answer were coming.

Lestrade lowered his voice to make it almost a whisper.

"Is it him?"

Johns heartbeat increased he could see piercing blue eyes before him.

"Who?" He breathed trying to keep his voice steady.

"Mycroft Holmes."  
>"Oh." John was flooded by relief. "Like I said, left on my door step. No idea."<p>

"I'm not buying that."

"Go through the information and ring me when you're finished. I may be able to tell you a little more then."

"Give me a reason why I shouldn't take you into custody for withholding police evidence?"

"Because we both know you won't."

* * *

><p>It was already getting dark when John left the police station and went down into the underground to take the tube. He was more tired than he had been in years by the time he got back to 221B Baker Street. As he walked in he saw Sherlock coming out of the bathroom. He was fully dressed but his hair was dripping wet and hanging down straight almost to his shoulders.<p>

"Sherlock, Did you kill them all?" John had to ask.

"All?" Sherlock asked looking confuse at the sudden question.

"You know what I'm referring to."

"No. I may have had to take extreme measures to protect myself in a few instances but people like that always have enemies John. "

"And I'm guessing these enemies found files on their doorsteps that gave them more reasons to hate them and detailed instructions of where to find them."

John took a deep breath. It was brilliant, it was morally grey, it was Sherlock all over. He didn't know whether to be happy that his past lover was not a cold blooded killer or shocked that he was alright turning people over to cold blooded killers rather than the police. But in their world, the world of murders and laws and consulting criminals morality was not as clear cut as in most peoples.

"Something like that."

John was so tired, numb. He needed a break from it all.

"I have to look after Hamish."

He stated wanting to see things for a moment from the simple world of a child and to be surrounded by the loving affection and need. He walked past Sherlock and into his front room. His eyes immediately sort out Hamish. He was on the sofa, head in Mrs. Hudson's lap as she ran her hand through his soft curls. John smiled fondly. There were times like these when his heart seemed to almost pause for a second and all the worries of the world dropped away.

"Is he asleep?" He said quietly to Mrs. Hudson.

"No, just very tired."

"I'll take him." John said bending down and shifting the little boy into his arms. Hamish blinked up at him immediately putting his chubby hands around John's neck in a gesture of complete trust.

"Thank you for your help Mrs. Hudson."

"You know where I am if you need me."

Mrs. Hudson got up to leave as she met Sherlock in the doorway she let out a long huff of breath and hugged him to her.

"It's good that you're alive Sherlock. I don't understand it all but I'm glad."

Sherlock smiled and bent down to kiss Mrs. Hudson on the cheek.

"It's good to see you again. Sleep well, we'll talk more tomorrow."

"Come on Hamish bedtime." John said carrying the boy towards his room.

"Story?"

"Yes."

* * *

><p>"And they live happily ever after." John whispered as he shut Hamish's favourite fairy tale. Hamish was already asleep. He's podgy hand was clasped around the little blue teddy bear. It had been the first thing that John had brought for him. He had left the mini Holmes with Mrs. Hudson as he had made an emergency run to the stores for nappies and powdered baby formula. The little bears had been sat on the top of the baby shelves, all bright colours with soft fluffy material and sewn on eyes and noses. He had stretched up and took one of the little bears without really thinking. When Hamish had started to talk he had called it Bear because that's what John called it but for the last few months he had been having private little conversations with it and called it Madock. John had absolutely no idea where the name came from but he had been glad that he had brought the bear that day.<p>

John bent down and placed a loving kiss on Hamish's forehead. He stood watching Hamish's chest moving slightly in sleep for just a moment longer hen as he did most nights convinced himself it was okay to leave him. He yawned as he walked to his bedroom, it had been a long day full of surprises and though he doubted he would sleep that night at least he would get solitude and peace. Except when he got to his room and opened the door he found that somebody was sleeping in his bed.

Sherlock was laid flat out on his bed in an almost unnatural way. John almost expected him to have his fingers steeped as if he was thinking even during sleep. As he walked in Sherlock looked up and gave John a small lopsided grin. John sighed.

"Sherlock, couch."

"No. It's quiet alright John. I am comfortable with you sharing my bed."

John looked down and counted to ten. How was it Sherlock had been back for just over four hours and he already wanted to deck him? John had always thought himself an even tempered and patient person before Sherlock had entered his life. In fact many thought him infinitely patient and good natured to even be able to live with Sherlock.

"It's my bed." He said steadily.

Sherlock sat up.

"It's in my room." He stated.

"Not anymore. Out." John pointed to the door.

"Pardon?"

"Go sleep on the couch Sherlock."

Sherlock's eyes narrowed slightly but he jumped up and slide out of the bed grabbing a pillow as he went.

John sighed and looked at the floor.

"Sherlock!"

"Oh what now?" Sherlock asked.

"Put your trousers on." John said still not looking at the naked form in front of him.

"Why? Am I making you uncomfortable?" Sherlock asked smugly.

"Yes." John admitted. "But mainly it's because Hamish might get up in the middle of the night and he already thinks you're scary. Sherlock Holmes put your trousers on!"

"God, you're starting to sound like Mycroft." Sherlock said and though John wasn't looking at him he could imagine the slightly bulging eyes and the way he flung his hands up in the air. He heard the bang of a draw opening.

"I'm stealing yours because mine are uncomfortable."

"Right." John said keeping his eyes trained on the floor as he waited for Sherlock to leave. He flet the warm body pass close to him and pause for a moment.

"Goodnight John." Sherlock said softly.

John didn't answer; he didn't think he could because his resolve was quickly disappearing. This was Sherlock. This was the man he had made love to, had buried himself in and watched fall apart. He was the man John had longed for literally like no other. He closed his eye and let out a deep breath as the door finally closed.

He got undressed, slipped on his soft pyjama trousers and slipped under the sheets. The slightly spicy smell of Sherlock clung to the pillow. Knowing he was alone he buried his face in it and breathed in deeply. He was really here, Sherlock had really come back. Now instead of thinking over all the problems this brought up with Hamish he just thought about the fact that Sherlock, his friend (at least) was back. He smiled. And then his hand crept downwards over his stomach and under his waistband. Sherlock looked exactly as he had when he had left. His body was still lean and pale with tight muscles. He sighed. It had been a long time.

* * *

><p>I love reviews, hint ,hint.<p> 


	6. Chapter 6

Sorry for the wait. Tough week, one where I have been talked over the top of and forced to seriously doubt my abilities in all areas. There will be a wait for the next chapter as well because I'm going away for a few days.

* * *

><p>John was woken by Hamish tapping his shoulder. A lot of children like to jump on their parent's bed. Hamish liked to just tap his shoulder. Yes, John could admit he was an unusual child, he'd always thought Sherlock must have had a terrible childhood but perhaps some of it was biological.<p>

"I'm getting up. Go .. watch T.V. or something." John groaned.

Hamish nodded.

John turned back around wondering how much longer he could get in bed before Hamish decided that he was actually going to jump on him. John spent a blissful few minutes hugging his pillow before remembering who was in front room and jumping up immediately almost getting tangled in the bed sheets as he did so. He ran quickly into the front room to see Sherlock just stirring with Hamish stood before him holding an apple.

"Apple." He said as Sherlock opened his eyes.

"I can tell you're raised by John. He has a habit of stating the obvious too."

"Hamish, come on, let's fix you breakfast."

Sherlock turned around as if to go back to sleep.

"Sherlock, breakfast?"

"Just Coffee."

"If you want it come to the table."

Sherlock turned around and stared at him.

"Routine is good for young children. You're upsetting him enough as it is."

Sherlock sighed dramatically as he stood up and John had the distinct feeling he was dealing with two children. But as the blanket fell from Sherlock's shoulders John noticed something he had missed the day before. There was a long thick scar down his side the skin puckered and red. It ran from just below his ribs on his left to just above his hip. John stared at it. He looked up at Sherlock just in time to see him look away in discomfort.

"Now we both have our war wounds." He said walking past into the kitchen.

John followed him as he stood by the kettle.

"Coffee?"

"Tea." John answered. "That's not from a knife." He stated still in shock to see the mark. It had obviously been painful and it brought the fact that whilst Sherlock had been away he had been fighting and in danger not just in some abstract place.

"Acid." Sherlock said curtly.

"It loos like it didn't heal properly." John said unconsciously reaching down to touch the abnormally warm and rough skin.

Sherlock flinched and moved away.

"There were no qualified doctors in the area, it got infected before I could get it seen to."

Sherlock continued making the hot drinks without meeting John's eyes. John took in a deep breath.

"I want to have a look at it later. There might be something that can be done to help the scaring."

Sherlock banged the tea spoon he was holding down n the worktop and stared ahead of him at the cupboard.

"Bit of a double standard isn't it? You not liking scars."

John sighed. He placed his hand on Sherlock's shoulder.

"Sherlock. It's not like that. I just want it to get the medical treatment it needs."

Sherlock turned to look at him his eyes darted over his body quickly.

"Good wank was it? Did you think of anybody in particular?"

John sighed, Sherlock the master of deflection. He turned around to see Hamish sat at the table.

"Sherlock watch your language around Hamish."

"Why he doesn't know what it means?"

"That's not the point."

"Then what is the point?"

"Forget it."

John put the three boxes of cereal and two fruit juices on the table with three plastic bowls and three plastic cups.

"What do you want Hamish?"

Hamish held up the apple he was still clutching so John took it off him to washed it and cut it up.

"You have to have more than that, have some cereal as well."

"Um.. that one." Hamish said pointing to the box of cheerio's. John nodded and set about pouring the cereal for both of them.

All three sat in silence in their seats. Hamish munched on his apple, John ate muesli and Sherlock drank black coffee. The lack of talking was almost uncomfortable and the three of them kept glancing at each other as if trying to work each other out and the constant rhythmic thud of Hamish kicking at the table leg made John feel slightly nervous.

Sherlock cleared his throat.

"Hamish."

The little boy glanced up. John looked back and forth between the two Holmes, they were each staring at each other with identical expressions of trying to figure each other out. John held his breath waiting to see if Sherlock would actually attempt to bond with his child. Because despite his mixed feelings that would be a good thing.. right?

"What are your plans for today?"

Hamish blinked a couple of times and then looked over at John like he usually did when he didn't know the answer to something.

"Um.. on Saturday mornings Hamish and I stay in our pyjamas till tea time, usually watching one of our favourite movies and then after lunch we go to the park."

Hamish nodded kicking his little feet out and smiling widely.

"I like the park." He said looking back down at his bowl of cereal. John noticed the trail of milk down his blue pyjama top.

"I'm sure you do but I was thinking maybe something else."

"Sherlock." John warned. " Routine."

"I was just going to suggest one of the museums. I mean, some of them offer things of interest for children, don't they? Make science fun."

"Oh.. well, that's a good idea." John said staring at Sherlock shocked that he would be aware that there were children's sections in museums.

"I know it is."

"Wait, you're meant to be in hiding."

"People are unobservant and they expect me to be dead. They won't see me because they don't expect to see me."

"What about if it were Molly or Lestrade?"

"Molly knows I'm alive and you know hat Lestrade spends his Saturdays visiting his brothers family in Ware."

"Wait, Molly knows you're alive."

"Yes, she helped me. We'll discuss it later, no point in getting all upset around young Hamish is there?" Sherlock grinned at him in a smug way that he did when he knew he'd got one up on somebody. John felt that strange feeling of annoyance mixed with irritation, attraction and a slight bit of admiration. He would have t get used to experience that feeling again.

"I'm guessing you want to go to the science museum?"

"It would be a god place to start teaching him how to observe the world don't you think?"

"He's a child. He observes and learns every minute of everyday Sherlock."

Sherlock's eyes narrowed and crinkled slightly as he looked at the boy. He was chasing the last few hops around his bowl of milk his face twisted into a look of concentration.

"No."

"What?" Sherlock asked.

"You are not experimenting on your son."

"I wasn't..."

"You were."

"Finished!" Hamish shouted interrupting the intense staring match John and Sherlock were having.

"Well done. Hamish.." John took a deep breath. Hamish could often be very set in his ways for a two year old. "Instead of going to the park today we're going to go the museum."

Hamish frowned.

"No park today?"

"No, we're not going to the park today but museums are fun." John said with false enthusiasm as Hamish's face fell. "They have.. spaceships and dinosaurs and lots of cool stuff.."

"Dinosaurs!" Hamish cried excitedly.

"That's the natural history museum John."

"We'll go to that one then. He likes dinosaurs and he'll still be learning."

Sherlock stared at him.

"Look, you can teach him some experiments later. You know, ones without acid and radioactive material."

"Where is my equipment?" Sherlock asked looking around.

"Mrs. Hudson has stored it. I was thinking, and this is just a suggestion, but to keep from upsetting Hamish too much perhaps we could fix up the downstairs apartment for a little while." John said, knowing that any time to bring it up would be a bad time so it was best to approach it as one does a plaster and pull it off without hesitation knowing it's going to sting.

Sherlock's eyes narrowed as he frowned at him.

"I mean, it would be easier for you to keep hidden there. We do have visitors occasionally."

Before Sherlock could answer there was a tense knock on the door. John glanced up at the clock; it was 8:30 am, so it could only be Mrs. Hudson. She tended to let herself in but perhaps she was being shyer because of Sherlock being there. Perhaps she didn't want to disturb them after so long apart. Either way John got up and padded on bare feet to through the front room and to the door.

"Hello Mrs... Mycroft!"

John was shocked to see the tall balding (and much fatter than when he had last seen him) older brother of Sherlock Holmes. He stood in his pinstriped suit dripping umbrella in his hand. John stood shocked as Mycroft strode past him.

"Where is he?" Mycroft seemed anxious as he banged open the bedroom door and looked around, it was the most out of shape John had ever seen him.

"Wait wait, you can't just come marching in here.."

"Where is my brother?"

John didn't try to hide his shock. The way he figured it was that anybody would be shocked if somebody turned up at their door demanding to see a dead man. Instead he used his surprise and panic as a mask in it's self.

"WHAT?"

"Lestrade called me; we spent all night going over that box of information, only one person could have put it together."

"Unkie?"

John turned around to see Hamish stood peering out from behind the kitchen door. John quickly glanced and saw that he could not make out the shape of Sherlock behind the misted glass. He'd probably hidden under the table but why he couldn't keep Hamish with him John didn't know.

Mycroft's eyes widened and he went pale.

"Oh god has he been doing cloning now?"

"No." John sighed already knowing that the game was up. "Hamish is his natural son."  
>Mycroft stared at John open mouthed, then at Hamish. John could have sworn he saw his eyes moisten slightly.<p>

"Is he alive?" Mycroft's voice broke but he still did not take his eyes away Hamish.

"Yes." The double doors to the kitchen opened revealing Sherlock stood there looking rather magnificent with his chest bare and his chin high and his hair in mad uncombed curls.

"No thanks to you. I know we were never close but selling me to a psychopathic criminal? We'll that was a step to far DON'T You think."

Mycroft strode across the front room and hugged his brother tightly. Sherlock's expression did not falter and his muscles did not eve twitch as his brother rest his forehead on his shoulder.

Mycroft eventually took a step back and tugged down on his suit face was back to it's usual mask of indifference.

"Do you know what you've put mummy through?"

"Do you know what you've put mummy through? I had no other choice."

Mycroft glanced away in shame.

"I am sorry Sherlock, more sorry than you will ever realize, this last two years.."

"You've been mourning me have you? The irritating little brother who chooses to play at detecting rather than go into the family business of politics."

"Yes. "

"Tough. I want you to leave." Sherlock strode into the front room and dumped himself ungraciously into his arm chair.

"What?"

"Do you see that boy?" Sherlock said pointing to Hamish.

Hamish immediately hid behind John as he detected the tension in the air.

"That is my son and because of what you did he doesn't know who I am. See that." Sherlock pointed to John.

"That was the man I wanted to be with and now he hates me. "

Mycroft mouth opened and his eyes widened as he looked at John.

"That's not true. " John said shaking his head, he didn't hate Sherlock. He could never hate Sherlock, want to punch him? Yes. Want to tell him to shut the fuck up? Yes. Hate him? Never.

"He resents me for being away for so long and he thinks we may never get over it." Sherlock corrected banging his hands down on the arms of his chair staring intensely at Mycroft who just looked back in complete shock. John couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for him, in the course of ten minutes he had found out his supposedly dead brother was alive, the he had a son and that he was involved in a gay relationship with his ex flatmate.

"Leave."

Mycroft turned to John.

"Call me."

"I will, when we're ready we will call you." John promised.

Mycroft turned to walk out the door eyes slightly wet and head hung down.


	7. Chapter 7

Wow, busy few weeks. This chapter comes thanks to a nasty stomach bug that has laid me in bed all day and given me time to write.

* * *

><p>Usually travelling on the underground with a toddler requires a lot of organisation. Today however everything went without a hitch. John packed up a bag with some snacks and little cartoons of milk with a straw, baby wipes, a spare t-shirt, bandages and anti septic and the usual phone and wallet. The he Sherlock and Hamish went to the Baker street underground station. When the train had came Hamish had climbed up on his lap and curled his fingers in his shirt. A true London baby the rush and cords of the underground did not bother him in the slightest. Sherlock was quiet for most of the journey looking over at him and Hamish. John had no idea what was going through his mind. Untill he looked over at the lightly dozing Hamish.<p>

"How do I get him to like me?"

"What?"

"Hamish, how do I get him to like me? I've never been able to get people to like me, I've never really much cared, people are idiots. But children are different right? Simpler but better because they have the possibility to grow in to somebody who is not actually an idiot."

John was a little confused by the statement.

"Yes, Hamish has the possibility to grow into practically anything, anyone, he's still developing his personality and skills will come later. Are you saying you like children?"

Sherlock paused and thought.

"I've had little opportunity to form an opinion."

John hid a smile. Sherlock wanted to try; he cared about what his son thought of him.

"Sherlock, give it time. You can't learn everything overnight."

It was another minute before Sherlock answered.

"It has always seemed to me that to some people this sort of things come naturally. Dealing with other people has never come naturally to me."

"You want to get to know him?"

"Yes."

"You want him to like you?"

"Yes."

John couldn't hold back his smile this time. He looked down and stroked his hair through Hamish's curls. He looked up fully awake now and gave him a questioning little look.

"It'll come eventually."

They arrived at South Kensington Station and went down the long tunnel following the signs for the national history museum.

Hamish started to drag behind slightly and pull at John's hand. He smiled down at him.

"We're almost there Hamish."

"Where?"

"The place with the dinosaurs."

Hamish nodded and caught back up.

John looked over at Sherlock walling several paces in front of them with his usual long strides that weren't tailored to a toddlers pace.

"You're quiet today."

"I am merely taking in the changes to the city."

"Have you missed it?"

Sherlock turned and looked at it. John was half expecting him to say that would be illogical but instead he gave a little smile.

"Yes, but I am back now to state the obvious."

Sherlock stopped when they reached the stops. He looked down at Hamish.

"Shall we go up Hamish?" He said trying to give him a friendly smile that always looked a little manic on Sherlock's face.

Hamish stayed quiet and carefully with a lot of concentration climbed up the steps keeping hold of John's hand.

It was a slightly hung over day but not cold. It was the perfect day for spending in a museum. Not sunny and nice enough that you feel guilty for not being outside but there was not the threat of rain which meant they could go outside to find something to eat at lunch time.

"There it is, see that big building with the two tower like bits."

Hamish nodded.

"That's the museum, that's where the dinosaurs are."

"Hamish."

Sherlock said. Hamish turned and looked up at him.

"What do you like?"

Hamish popped his tongue between his teeth thinking hard for a second.

John was about to tell him that the question was too vague but Hamish managed it.

"I likes ice cream... and I likes ... doggies."

"Ah brilliant."

Sherlock said excitedly clapping his hands and looked around then started walking off in a different direction.

"Where are you going?"

"There's a big pet shop just off Hammersmith."

"No! Sherlock you are not buying him a dog."

"Why not?"

"Because the flat contact says we're not allowed dogs."

"Mrs. Hudson won't mind, I'll make it a small dog."

"And who is going to walk it? I can't look after a dog as well as a kid and you. I do have to work sometimes you know?"

"But he'll like me if I buy him a dog."

"How about starting with the museum and then ice-cream."

"Ice cream." Hamish shouted happily.

"Ice- cream is later, after we look at the dinosaurs and have lunch."

Sherlock paused and looked down at Hamish's excited face.

"Okay then, this may be easier than I thought it would be."

By now they had made there way to the side entrance of the Museum.

"The Earth galleries a good place to start learning about mineral compounds." Sherlock said happily walking through the glass doors.

It had been years since John had been to the natural history museum. Not since his days as a student. As he walked up the stairs slowly with Hamish he saw he was in a tall but narrow hall painted black and with star constellations on the wall. There was an escalator going up through the middle of the hall. Wrapped around it and made out of ragged metal fragments was a giant purple and blue globe. It made loud crashing noises as it spun slowly around.

The minute they reached the top of the stairs Hamish looked at the globe with wide blue eyes and then hid behind John's legs.

Hamish tried turning around to look at him but Hamish was clinging tightly to the back of his knees.

"What is it Hamish?"

"It's scary."

"There's nothing there that will hurt you. It's meant to be fun."

Sherlock looked annoyed.

"Why is the boy scared of that?" He said pointing.

"Because it's nosey and it looks frightening to him. Come on; well go into the other entrance."

Hamish nodded. John bent down to carry him out. The boy was almost crying.

As John carried Hamish out he looked over at Sherlock hoping to see him touch Hamish or speak softly to him or do any of those things family members do to children when they're scared. But Sherlock just walked off down the street towards the main entrance. John sighed. It was always two steps forwards one step back with Sherlock.

The main entrance hall with its tall light space and little side displays seemed a lot less threatening. And right in front of him was the tall stegosaurus skeleton.

Hamish was still hiding his face in John's shirt so John whispered lightly to him his soft baby hair tickling his cheek.

" Look Hamish it's a dinosaur."

Hamish turned around and looked at it.

"Isn't that cool? Do you want to go have a closer look at it?"

Hamish gave a small nod so John put him down on the floor. Hamish ran towards the large skeleton and John followed him glad to see him looking happy.

"Look, that's its backbone. It's made of lots of different parts. Do you see it, the long one running along the top?"

Hamish nodded.

"Backbone." He repeated.

"My backbone is made like that, with lots of different parts, and so is yours." John explained running his fingers up along Hamish back.

"It runs up like that."

Hamish squirmed slightly, he smiled. He didn't laugh though. He rarely ever laughed even though most people considered him a happy child. John looked up to see Sherlock watching them the minute John's eyes landed on him he looked away and focused instead on a small group of school children who were sketching a display containing the earliest found fossilised mammal.

"Why do they need to know about dinosaurs, they died millions of years ago what good are they to anybody now?" Sherlock said disgusted.

"Kids like things like dinosaurs and dolphins and trains.. " John explained and tried to think of other things that children generally liked. "And parks and football or princess if they're girls. They're pretty predictable at this age, lots of gender stereotyping."

"Well knowing the London tube map is of some use."

"He prefers the over ground trains, as you saw this morning the underground ones don't interest him because there's nothing to see outside the windows. Buts that something you could teach him about if you had the patience, make it into a game with his toy trains, he'd like that."

"I don't know how to make things into games... I'm not fun."

Sherlock said it with a note of disgust but John could tell he was annoyed at himself for this. Sherlock was always confident in himself and made few apologises for what others perceived as his rudeness and lack of concern for everybody. But he was concerned. He was concerned about the son he had only just met and if he liked him or not. Suddenly he was not happy with who he was, he wanted to be somebody who was okay with children.

"I don't know, I've certainly had some fun times with you."

John said not liking this side of Sherlock, he would be a good father, and once he knew what he was doing he would be. Sherlock raised his eyebrow at him and gave him a little smirk.

"I was not referring to that."

"Chasing taxi cabs and stealing ash trays from Buckingham palace?"

"Okay, yes, that is not the type of fun Hamish should be having. But Sherlock." John placed his hand on his arm. "I'm here to teach you these things."

John looked toward Hamish, or rather he looked towards where Hamish had been standing and now wasn't. He looked around the hall expecting to see the little boy a little way away looking at another of the exhibits. But he was no where to be seen. John felt that sudden rush of panic as if he had just had a bucket of cold water thrown over him. Why did he take his eyes of him? It had only been three minutes but John knew what could happen in three minutes, with a pretty little boy like Hamish, oh god.

He met Sherlock's eyes and saw the instant when Sherlock realized Hamish was missing. It was such a weird occasion to see Sherlock scared that it made John's heartbeat as if it was going to jump out of his chest. Sherlock began looking around trying to find Hamish.

"HAMISH!" John shouted ignoring the fact that lots of people were staring at him. "HAMISH! HAMISH!"

John spun around his hands clutching at his head. As he turned to the back of the hall he saw a familiar curly head walk out the doorway to the next room. He ran towards him relief flowing through him.

"Fish Unkie, big FISH!" Hamish said as he got near him and fell to his knees. John hugged him to him for a second feeling that soft heartbeat near his own and taking a deep breath of that smell of strawberry bubble bath and peppermint toothpaste. He pulled away and took Hamish by the shoulders.

"Hamish, don't ever wonder off again, okay? "

Hamish looked up at him with weird startled eyes, he had no idea about the panic he had just caused. He was confused by John's worried words and looked like he was about to cry again.

"It's alright. I just couldn't see you and I got scared. Stay where I can see you okay?" John said trying to speak though his heart was still pounding in his ears.

"Okay."

John hugged him again then looked up at Sherlock. There was relief in his eyes. He knelt down next to John and put a hand on Hamish's shoulder to get his attention and one on John's that he was sure was meant to be comforting.

"You do what Uncle John tells you to. You're special and we don't want to lose you. "


	8. Chapter 9

WHOOP! Half way through a frustrating chapter about wondering around museums (which I love but apparently don't like to write about) I realized that I should just skip ahead.

* * *

><p>John collapsed on the sofa in front of the T.V. Gods! Three Holmes in one day (well, two and a half) was exhausting.<p>

"Unkie John. I wanna play with seaness kit."

John sighed. After a large argument explaining why two year old should not be given access to Bunsen burners or sulphuric acid Sherlock had brought Hamish every kiddies science kit that was available at the science museum. Something called the Chem 3000 Kids version; the new Scotland's yard forensic kit complete with crime scene tape (hopefully the hamster wouldn't get it) a genetics and DNA kit which Sherlock said he could use to show Hamish that he was his father. He didn't buy the children's microscope because he said he would teach Hamish how to use his own.

John had brought Hamish a little stuff T-rex that he suggested be called Tony Rex but Hamish had called Matty since he was Madock's brother. He had almost cried when Sherlock had said that if they had been alive at the same time Matty would have eaten Madock. He had fallen asleep hugging it and sucking his thumb on the train home but was now running around crazily again.

"No, you can play with them later."

"But I want to play with them now." Sherlock said walking in.

"Yeah."

"No, it's bedtime."

"It's seven o'clock I don't want to go to bed." Sherlock said.

"I was talking to Hamish."

"Oh, right."

"Story?" Hamish said sleepily rubbing his eyes.

"Yeah. Alright." John said. "Just give me a minute." God, days like this really reminded him he was getting old.

"I want…" Hamish turned to look at Sherlock and bit his lip. It was the first sign he had given that he didn't know who Sherlock was. John would have to talk to him tomorrow. But to say what, this is your father, as a two year old who had never had a father how would he know what that meant?

"I want Unkie.. Sher… Sher.."

"Oh god just call him Shirley." John snapped irritable and not just from tiredness.

Sherlock shot him an annoyed look.

"I want Unkie Shirley to read my story."

"Okay." John said. "Means I don't have to get up." He reached for the newspaper behind him, it was several days old but he still hadn't finished the first page. Not a murder thank god.

"I don't know how to do this John." Sherlock said in the reluctant tone he always used when he did not know how to do anything.

"What read, I'm pretty sure you do. Just make sure to do it out loud."

"Okay." Sherlock said letting himself be tugged away by Hamish.

John threw the paper onto the floor. There had been so many nights when he had just wished Hamish would just go to bed and let him have a quiet moment to himself. But now he felt annoyed that Hamish had asked Sherlock to read him the story. He Didn't want Sherlock to replace him. He needed Hamish to need him. Why was Sherlock his favourite all of a sudden?

* * *

><p>"<em>Unkie John look at the big fish."<em>

"_Yes, it's really really big."_

"_The blue whale is actually a mammal." Sherlock said standing behind them. "And apparently their penis's are called dorks and can be up to eight feet long. This is why discovery channel is useless."_

"_Mamma ell." Hamish said._

"_They're the different types of animals. All animals fall into the types, Fish, Bird, Mammal, amphibian and reptile. The whale looks like a fish but actually it's a mammal like cats and dogs are." John said ignoring Sherlock._

"_It got no fur."_

"_No, it hasn't." John agreed._

_John looked over at Sherlock stood in the corner looking around with something close to disdain. _

"_Look!" Hamish said again pointing to the wall. _

_John looked confused trying to figure out what it was that he was pointing out._

"_Look." Hamish repeated running up to the wall and running his hand down one of the pillars _

_John bent down and looked a little closer and saw that the pillars had stone snakes wrapped around them._

"_Oh yeah, look at that." He turned to look at Sherlock. "See, he's inherited your observation skills."_

_Sherlock's eyes crinkled as he watched the little boy stroking the stone snakes. _

"_Dinosaurs!"_

"_No that's a representation of a snake."_

"_I think he's asking to go see more dinosaurs."_

_Sherlock got out what looked like a building schematic ._

"_When did you have time to buy that?"_

"_I didn't I brought it with me."_

"_Of course you did." John said, how could he forget that Sherlock had a strange ned to collect maps, modern or out hundreds of years out of date._

"_There are electronic models of dinosaurs if we go into the next room."_

"_What's lect ron ic?" Hamish asked looking up from between them with big eyes._

"_It means they move. Like they're alive." John answered._

"_Will they eat me?"_

_Sherlock gave a chuckle. John looked at him stunned. He had never seen Sherlock laugh unless he was enjoying a murder or somebody was being what he perceived as stupid, this wasn't that kind of chuckle though. Was he actually enjoying the company of a child? It was a good thing, of course. Just surprising._

"_No." Sherlock said patting Hamish's head._

* * *

><p>"<em>Again Again! Hamish shouted as the earth quake simulator stopped.<em>

_John sighed they had been standing on the simulator that was made up to look like a Japanese shop for three turns and the lady in the crowd behind them who had been in the queue waiting shot them an evil look. _

"_One more time." Sherlock said patiently. "There's still lots more to see."_

"_Okay." Hamish said._

_The floor started to shake._

"_Hold on." Sherlock said taking Hamish's hands and wrapping them around the safety bar. _

_John smiled, screw the angry sour faced woman behind them._

* * *

><p>"<em>What flavour ice cream would you like Hamish?" Sherlock said smiling down at his son. <em>

_Hamish looked up at him shyly and shook his head._

"_Oh, you can't read can you, right well they have pistachio, rum and raisin.."_

"_Chocolate or strawberry Hamish?" John said._

"_Chocolate." Hamish said excitedly jumping up and down as his fingers clung on to the top of the glass counter._

_Sherlock frowned slightly and turned to the waitress._

"_Two scoops of chocolate in a bowl please then one vanilla cone and one rum raisin."_

"_Rum Raisin?" John asked._

"_That's still your favourite isn't it?"_

"_Yes. I think I told you that once maybe four years ago."_

"_I do listen sometimes you know."_

"_I thought you only ever memorized important things."_

"_I thought you said that knowing things about your friends is important."_

"_I did but I didn't know you were paying attention."_

"_Thank you." Sherlock said taking the ice cream._

"_So what next?" John asked when they had sat down outside._

"_I am tired John." Sherlock said with a tone John had never heard it was as if he was sharing a secret he didn't really want to reveal. "I have had enough, I never knew ... I always found it fun. I never knew there would be a time when there would be too much death too much violence."_

_John looks at him, perhaps the last few years had been hard on him, something had left Sherlock Holmes a little broken._

"_I do not know what to do. All my life I have been training my mind for one thing alone. Now that I am tired off it, what do I do?"_

"_You can do anything Sherlock. You're intelligent enough to do anything."_

"_I know that." Sherlock gave a cocky half smile. "I just don't know what to do."_

"_Are you really going to give it up?" John asked not able to believe it, not knowing if he wanted to believe it. Sherlock Holmes, there was nobody like him. John wouldn't like it if there was the world only had enough room for one Sherlock Holmes._

"_I don't know. I'm so tired."_

_John nodded._

"_So. "He said trying for a happier tone when he noticed the little boy looking between them. "What next?"_

"_I just told you I did not know." _

"_Yes, but what I meant was are we going to the science museum?"_

"_Oh, yes." Sherlock answered._

_John looked down at Hamish, the one sure way to get a two year old to stay quiet for a few minutes was to give them ice-cream. Sure enough Hamish was sat their pushing the last bits of half metal ice-cream around the bowl, big smile on his ice cream covered face._

"_Hamish." John sighed. "You've got ice-cream all over your face."_

_Hamish stuck his tongue out and tried to lick his cheeks._

"_Yum, yum, yum, yum."_

"_May I?" Sherlock asked just as John was about to reach over and wipe Hamish's mouth. John watched in slight surprise as Sherlock reached into the big bag John had brought with him, got out a wet wipe and proceeded to wipe Hamish's cheeks with it._

"_All done." He smiled._

"_Thank you." Hamish said._

"_Look at this Hamish." Sherlock said._

* * *

><p><em>They were stood in the large room full of 'science experiment' for kids. All around them screaming children were running around.<em>

_Sherlock was pointing at a large red plastic circle that looked like part of a gramophone except it was well over a meter in diameter. Their were two of them on either side of the room and they were high up so they had to be accessed by stairs._

"_If you whisper something to Uncle John from one side of the room whilst he's at the other he wouldn't hear you would he?"_

_Hamish shook his head though John knew it was probably not because he knew the answer but because he knew what answer Sherlock wanted._

"_But if you whisper into that and John steaks his ear in the other one then he will hear. Do you want to try?"_

"_Yeah." Hamish said atheistically starting to run to the other side of the room followed by Sherlock. John smiled in a tired and fond way before heading up the steps and putting his ear the gramophone thing. He heard Hamish's high pitched voice._

"_I love you Unkie John." _

_John smiled, his chest felt like it was swelling. No matter how hard raising a kid was it was all worth it in moments like this. Just as he turned around to leave he swore he heard Sherlock's voice say 'I second that.'_

* * *

><p>Today had proven something to John. He Didn't know Sherlock as well as he thought and that made him extremely uncomfortable. He used to love running around London with Sherlock? And though he knew that with Hamish around he couldn't get involved in crimes anymore . But a tiny part of him held onto the possibility but now Sherlock had confirmed it himself. He Didn't want to solve crimes anymore. He wanted to be a father. It was what John had wanted so why was he so disappointed?<p>

"He's asleep. I read him a very interesting chapter of forensic entomology but he fell asleep five pages in."

John sighed and looked up at him.

"Let's just go to bed."


	9. Chapter 10

Okay, a little bit of a filler but I hope you like it anyways.

* * *

><p>John had not slept. Most of his night his mind had been spinning with thoughts of Sherlock and Hamish. He couldn't help his slight jealousy at the way Hamish seemed to be taking to Sherlock. It was unexplainable because Sherlock had never shown any interest in children before. And Hamish was shy of adults. It was like the last three years John had thought that raising a child was difficult most times but fun sometimes and definitely worth it in the long run. It was as if the bond between a child and it's natural parent was shining through. It was as if his relationship with Hamish was missing something.<p>

He had spent year wanting Sherlock back, wanting a fairy tale family. But now he was here his emotions were far from simple. His emotions towards Sherlock were also mixed, he kept finding himself staring at the man stunned that he was back. At other times the way he looked at John, the half little smiles that he occasionally gave him made him damned right horny. He could still remember what it felt like, to be with Sherlock. What it felt like to be solving a crime with Sherlock. The tours around spots of London most people didn't get to see, the endless nights going over things or watching Sherlock staring intently down a microscope and that moment, that wonder ful moment where something he said was of help or when he actually caught a glimpse into Sherlock's mind and the way he thought and saw a wonderful well organized but lonely place. But those days were over, the great Sherlock Holmes had somehow been broken. John was terrified that he wouldn't love Sherlock without the excitement, was it the man he had loved or the lifestyle that had come with him?

He was aware of the fact that lying less than a foot away from him Sherlock was also wide awake. He wondered what his fears were. Was he scared of not being a good father as John had been when he had first found Hamish on his doorstep. Was he shocked at suddenly finding himself a father? Was he thinking of her? The woman. He knew he was worried abut what to do next with his life but was he also mentally scared by what had happened in the past three years? He did seem to lack a little of the cockiness John remembered.

When the first rays of light started to filter through the curtains John got up. He could feel Sherlock's eyes on him.

"John?" Sherlock said.

"Coffee?" John tried to make his voice lighthearted.

"Yes please. And pain killers."

John turned to look at him.

"Odd choice for breakfast, I was going to make pancakes."

Sherlock didn't answer.

John got up sighing and went into he kitchen and made coffee. Making a decision as he did so, it had to be done it was in Sherlock's best interests even if he did not like it.

John searched his top cupboards. It had been a long day yesterday so hopefully Hamish would be asleep for a while longer all tuckered out. Though really sometimes children never seemed to function in the same way everybody else did or in the ways that his medical text books and parenting guides had told him they should.

But John felt by the stillness of the flat that he had a little time. He grabbed the bottle of cleaning fluid and one of antiseptic cream and pads of wool and went back to the bedroom where Sherlock was still lying on his good side.

"Shirt off."

"How very forwards of you." Sherlock said glancing up at him.

"Sorry, I'm not putting up with your defensiveness this morning." John made a grab at his shirt (he had thrown it at Sherlock the night before). Sherlock grabbed his wrist.

"I can do it myself."

John tried not to stare brazenly as Sherlock undid the buttons slowly revealing inch by inch of pale flawless skin. That was until he leaned slightly and pulled his arm out of one sleeve showing the mottled red scaring. John let out the breath he didn;t know he was holding. The scaring was something he was going to have to come to accept. Sherlock was no longer physical perfection, but he was still as close as John had ever seen. He should question the fact that he was thinking that about a man but he just had too many things to think of and worry about to let that one take up much of his energy.

Sherlock stared intently at him as he poured the solution on the wool and started to carefully clean the acid burn. It was almost healed but had done so badly patched of his flesh were uneven like the bumps of a war torn land. There was one patch near his waist band where the acid had pooled and had longer to eat at his flesh that had not yet healed completely. Sherlock winced and closed his eyes as John cleaned away the slightly green crusting revealing blood and pus.

"Not deep enough for stitching." John said trying to keep his voice from shaking.

"Just patch me up."

"I'm going to.. You know there's always plastic surgery if it bothers you that much."

"No."

"Is there a reason why?"

"I need it."

John fund himself shaking his head.

"Why?"

"Because it reminds me."

"Of what?"

Sherlock took a deep breath. John knew he was closing himself off again. Bringing down the walls and shutting John out.

"Are you done yet."

"I'm going o put on antiseptic cream, then wrap it. It's going to sting a bit."

Sherlock nodded but he still flinched slightly when the cream first touched him.

"Sorry."

"It's just cold."

John carried on biting his own lip when he reached the bloody dent knowing that it must have been hurting him but Sherlock seemed to be absent, he'd shut himself off from what was going on. John had seen him do that before when working on case but usually he was quite whinny when it came to pain.

"I don't like it when you look at me like a doctor." He said suddenly.

"I could never look at you like a doctor." John smiled. "You'd be the worst patient in the world."

Sherlock didn't acknowledge it.

John wrapped the wound, bandages covering the lower part of his body. Then he got up and left him to think or regain his dignity or whatever it was Sherlock did when he was closed off like this.

John was half way through making breakfast (scrambled eggs on toast) when he heard the door to the kitchen creak open and podgy little fingers holding the door open before a curly little head appeared from behind he door rubbing at his eyes.

"You should have stayed in bed a little longer if you're still tired."

Hamish scowled for a second looking just like a miniature of his father and then climbed up onto his usual chair.

John put a plastic plate of eggs and toast in front of him and then poured orange juice.

They sat silently across from each other as Hamish ate.

"You're not scared of Sherlock any more."

Hamish shook his head.

"You like him?"

Hamish nodded still eating.

"He'll be pleased about that." John said more to himself than to his little adopted son.

Hamish seemed to notice though and looked up at him with a tilt of the head.

John took a deep sigh. He didn;t know how to explain to a two year old that his long missing father had just turned up in his life. Did he even really need to explain, Hamish was young, he might just grow to understand who Sherlock was and the part he played in his life. No, he had to say something, however ineffective it might be he had to try. Hamish would sense something was up at some point and who knows what affects such a small child?

"Hamish. I have something important to talk to you about."

Hamish looked up at him, expression open and trusting.

"Sherlock is.. he's not like you're uncle Greg. I mean he's not just going to turn up at weekends. He's going to be here... a lot. For the rest of your life. He... he belongs to you in the same way I belong to you."

John sighed and hid his face in his hands.

"Do you understand?" He asked when he finally felt able to look up into those deep blue eyes.

"He's.. unckie.. like .. John." Hamish said slowly.

"Yes, I know that's difficult to understand."

"Why did you never get him to call you Daddy?"

John looked up to see Sherlock staring at him from the door.

John shot a look at Hamish who was turning in his chair to see Sherlock.

"Because..." John said wondering if Sherlock would ever understand when a conversation was appropriate or not. "I'm not his Dad, I'm his Uncle."

"Not really."

"You know why I didn't get him to call me Dad, I thought the one who owned that title might come back."

"You can't have him. I adopted him, I am legally his guardian. I'm not ready to be a parent. I can't even keep a pot plant alive." Sherlock said sarcastically.

John sighed.

"Alright alright. I'm sorry I said that. I didn;t mean it, I was angry and you've changed."

Sherlock's lips pursed and he looked away for a second.

"I was constantly changing, ever since I meet you I wasn;t the same person. Started noticing matters I'd previously found unimportant. I started caring. And it broke me."

John stood up and walked over to Sherlock placing his hand on his shoulder and trying to look in his eyes.

"Whatever happened. You can tell me, I won't run away."

Sherlock looked at him for a moment, his eyes making John's heart beat faster.

"Why do you think you're broken Sherlock?"

Sherlock looked at Hamish.

"What are you doing with him today?"

"Sundays are anything goes really. I can ask Mrs. Hudson to look after him again if you want to talk."

John expected Sherlock to turn around and say 'talking, please, what good has talking ever done anyone?' but he didn't.

"Yes."

John nodded.

"Come on, come have breakfast then I'll phone Mrs Hudson."


	10. Chapter 11

This one is definitely an M rated chapter for more than one reason.

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><p>Hamish had gone to stay with Mrs Hudson who had again stared at Sherlock like she had seen a ghost and whispered 'I just don't get it.' Hamish had actually cried when he found out he was going to stay with Mrs. Hudson for the better art of the day. He had never done that before, he usually loved staying with Mrs. Hudson who fed him more cakes than was wise and let him play with glue and sprinkles and doted on him like a grandmother. John knew it was a sign that everything that had happened in the last few days had affected Hamish despite his limited understanding. The stranger in their house that he was to call uncle, the fainting of Mrs. Hudson the near shouting match between him and Mycroft. It was all stressful for the little boy who didn;t understand anything except that the adults who usually kept him safe were angry and acting oddly.<p>

There was silence once Hamish left, the flat always seemed a little emptier without him. John picked up the dishes and mugs from breakfast taking them into the kitchen to wash up. Some days it seemed like his life consisted of little more than washing up laundry and hovering. Sherlock followed him slowly in.

"You wash I dry?" John joked knowing that Sherlock had not once done the washing up since they had met. Instead of an answer he felt Sherlock's body all too close to his. Cool lips touched the back of his neck and a hand reached to rest on his stomach pushing the material o his shirt up slightly.

"Sherlock." John said trying to catch his attention as the lips wondered up towards his ear giving little nobbles and licks that John had to admit were actually very nice. Danm, when did Sherlock Holmes get good this? Sherlock's fingers were now tracing small patterns ( Hexagons? Really?) onto John bare skin. John's eyes closed.

"Sherlock No." John said trying to keep a steady voice.

"Why no John? You are already staring to perspire slightly, you're heartbeat has elevated and..." Sherlock's hand suddenly jerked downwards his palm pressing up against the jean fabric covering John's half hard member making him take a sharp intake of breath. "And you are already beginning to respond to me."

John turned around to face Sherlock who was looking down at him with lust blown eyes. How had they gone from Sherlock saying he was broken to a silent breakfast and tearful child to being palmed in the kitchen?

"Why not John?" Sherlock said again leaning in to kiss the side of John's neck.

This time John tried to consider the question (though it was hard with Sherlock's hands wondering down his back) John needed this touch his body was crying out for it. It had been such a long time really, there had been nobody since Sherlock and yes he was somewhat desperate. But wasn;t he supposed to still be angry at Sherlock? He had left him for and entire three years, well almost. Shouldn;t he at least try a little to play hard to get. Short answer, sod it.

Sherlock finally kissed his lips, mouth warm and tasting of coffee. John grabbed the back of his neck and deepened the kiss until it became more like a battle for dominance their tongues pushing against each other fiercely. There body became pushed close and John could feel Sherlock's hard dick against his stomach. Shirt's were tugged and pulled at but it soon became apparent that they were to desperate to really be concerned with more then one part of their bodies.

Sherlock's fingers were undoing John's zipper and John was almost begging for him to hurry up but Sherlock obviously wasn;t in the mood to tease because too seconds later his dick was grasped almost painfully hard and jerked in an almost rough manner. He groaned and let himself go limp against the counter. Just as he was thinking he should probably be helping Sherlock too and remembering what Sherlock's dick looked like, long and pale and perfect Sherlock's fingers suddenly disappeared.

John was about to say something, not that he knew what, when Sherlock dropped to his knees and engulfed John with his warm wet mouth.

John let out a couple of sharp breaths. It felt so good as Sherlock sucked and licked at him and hummed around him. How did he know to do that? John suspected he had researched it. Then he suspected that he didn't actually care in the slightest. Nobody had done this for him in a long time, he suspected not since his early twenties. Why was he thinking so much? This was meant to feel good, it did feel good, i he'd just let himself. He gave a couple of moans in appreciation as Sherlock started a steady back and forth rhythm. Just as John was forgetting how to think Sherlock pulled off.

"It's not fair. I just got a taste of it. What it's like to be close to somebody, to to trust somebody and to love somebody and to be touched."

Sherlock stood back up his fingers still working over him, he leaned in and whispered in John's ear.

"Do you know what it feels like to have you inside me John? The ache, the friction, and that spot, oh... you have to let me show what it feels like at some point because it's indescribable."

John groaned, not at the words he did not think he was ready for Sherlock to be inside him yet but it was the way Sherlock said the words, hushed and passionate and breathless. It sent shots right down to his already sensitive dick.

Sherlock dropped back down his moist lips immediately taking John in. His tongue lapping around the sensitive head making John come undone fast enough to be considered embarrassing. He looked down into Sherlock's bright blue eyes as his head moved back and forth. His hands were splayed on John's hips and as John watched transfixed his hands moved further back to grasp Johns ass.

John couldn't watch any longer spots were appearing behind his eyes and his entire body seemed to tense and shiver and tingle. His fingers searched for something to hold onto. One hand flew out to brace himself against the countertop the other went down to rest in Sherlock's satin curls.

"Sherlock." He gasped as a kind of warning.

His head flung back as the barrier broke and the waves of pleasure drowned him. His hips bucked unwillingly and everything for a few seconds went blank. Then he came back to earth with a crash and he was in his kitchen with Sherlock on he's knees in front of him wiping at his chin with a piece of kitchen towel.

John let out a couple ore panted breathes and put his hand to his head. He felt strangely lightheaded and didn't complain when Sherlock cleaned him up in a way that seemed devoid of any intimacy. John reached down with trembling fingers to do up his flies time wasn't passing in the normal manner.

"Bitter, but I could get used to it." Sherlock said from the other side of the kitchen where he was sipping at a glass of water.

John couldn't reply.

"Do you need to sit down?"

"Don't sound so smug." John groaned. Sherlock put his arm round his waist and they walked into the front room. John turned Sherlock round and pushed him onto the sofa. Sherlock seemed a little more pliant than usual as John moved onto the sofa and laid himself on the sofa with his back pressed against Sherlock's chest.

"Do you always need to be hugged after sexual contact?"

"Shut up." John moaned.

"What do you want John?"

"What?"

"This situation, you and I, Hamish. The flat all of it?"

"Are you actually trying to take my wishes into account."

"When have I ever forced you to do anything, you do it because you really want to, you moan because you wish me to pay a little more attention to your wishes. Though from what I learnt ten minutes ago you also moan when I do."

"I'm ignoring that one."

"Just tell me what you want John." Sherlock sighed.

"I don't know, for us all to be a family. For everything to be just as they were before you faked your own death."

"You didn;t know about Hamish before I faked my death and I'm not sure if we could fit crime solving around day care hours."

"I thought you didn't want to be crime solving again."

"I don't. Maybe I could stick to telling women their husbands are having affairs." Sherlock said bitterly.

"You would hate that, and it's probably more dangerous than crime solving."

Sherlock chuckled lightly.

"Maybe you can be the next Jeremy Kyle, they wouldn't need the lie detectors and DNA tests."

"I'm bored of Jeremy Kyle."

"You've not succeeded you know."

"Succeeded in what exactly?"

"Distracting me from the fact that you told me you were broken and would talk to me about it."

Sherlock's body tensed below him.

John tilted his head slightly so he could kiss Sherlock's jaw feeling the roughness of stubble;e against his lips. Sherlock was quiet for a long time, almost eight minutes (yes he kept secretly glancing at thew clock but Sherlock could do this for hours and he wondered if he would beat his record on this one) but John knew if he just waited it out hen he would be rewarded with that little glimpse into Sherlock's mind that he always desired. Those little glimpses allowed him to say (if only to himself) , Sherlock Holmes, his difficult but I know him better than anybody else and I love him.

"I was passing through a village in Romania. I was on he trail of a man called Zenko. Not one of the worst from Moriarty's web, just your average paid thug. I was going to persuade him to retire."

John wanted to ask exactly how he was going to persuade him but knew that interrupting at that moment might make Sherlock close off again.

"But when i arrived at the village planning to spend the night I found there was a procession going down the street, women wailing and all dressed in black and people looking out their doors all somber expressions. I thought somebody mildly important had died but as I mad emy way to the little hostel I put together that the children in the village had been disappearing, the perpetrator seemed to be escalating having taken three the month previous and now a set of two year old twin boys. Of course the Romania police are rubbish and corrupt as usual so I decided to take the case. After interviewing the people around the village it became clear that children were being taken by somebody they knew. There was no signs of struggle but being a small village that still left a large number of suspects. The fact that they went missing in the open, from farms and whilst at school or going to pick up things from the market meant that it was somebody who passed by unnoticed, a trusted member of the community. Then there was the crypts, they had been closed off twenty years before due to a collapse, except the ground over the top showed no signs of instability and there was another disappearance back then, it had been assumed that the young boy had drowned but I saw that it all added up. Then there were the signs of disturbances in the grave yard, I was told it was wild animals but there were no footprints or signs of scavenging it was all a little too neat. "

Sherlock was speaking strangely. Though he was lying down all the clues for John his voice lacked the usual excitement, it was dull it was unemotional. John could already feel his heartbeat growing faster, his mouth going dry but he still kept quiet clinging onto the arm that Sherlock had wrapped around him. For whose comfort he did not know. Sherlock paused for a moment.

"It was the priest. I waited for night to fall and followed him down into the crypts. The bones were all laid out on top of the clothes the children had been wearing. I found one of the twins, tied up but still alive, he had been molested.I left him to search for the other. As I went further into the crypts I saw some vats, acid from an abandoned industrial site a few miles to the east. He had decanted it into old petrol cans. I thought he couldn't hear me. He was holding the body of a child. As I got closer I saw that he had taken the lid off a stone sarcophagus. He was about to drop the child in. I thought the boy was dead at first but then I noticed his breathing, just unconscious. I tried to rush him, but as I did so he dropped the boy on the floor and threw a petrol can of acid at me I dodged most of it but... "

"It caught your side."

I couldn't get off the floor, I couldn;t see much through the pain. Except I did see the boy being dropped into the acid. And I did see the priest coming towards me." Sherlock took a deep breath. "I killed him. I passed out. I was found in the morning by one of the men, he couldn;t understand why the doors to the crypt that had been locked for twenty years were open. I woke up in the home of one of the women, they had fetched a doctor from a few miles away but there's no plastic surgeon in the area he cleaned the wounds and wrapped them up and kept my fever from the infection down. The police worked out most of what had happened. I think they closed off the church completely. I believe somebody named a dog after me."

"The other twin?"

"Alive."

John nodded. He didn't push further. He felt numb after the story. He couldn;t allow himself to feel anything except numb, he didn't want to think about what it would be like to loose a child because that would take him to thinking about what it would be like to loose Hamish. John took a deep breath.

"The boy, he wasn't Hamish."

"What? I know.."

"No, listen to me Sherlock. You didn;t save that child but you saved his brother and any other child the priest might have taken out in the future. Those children at that chocolate factoy and that boy on the phone that Mortiarty tried to kill you saved them. Those girls, those sex worker immigrants, you saved them. Sherlock, you have saved a lot of people who wouldn't have had anybody to help them if you weren't;t there. Because nobody else can do it. You know that, you always told me that. And just because you couldn't save that one boy doesn't mean that you can't look after Hamish."

"But why should it be me?" Sherlock said angrily pushing John away so tat e could sit up.

"Why do I have to save them? Why can;t I go back to the days when nothing affected me?"

"Those days were not normal Sherlock. But you have me, you have Molly and Greg and Mrs Hudson and Hamish. We're you're family, we'll look after you when the bad things happen but they'll be good things to Sherlock. Now that you've let yourself open up a bit they;ll be good things in your life. Not just cases but real reasons for joy. You said it yourself, you wanted to be close to somebody, to love somebody and be touched by somebody. That's healthy. And you have to save them because there's nobody else like you Sherlock, nobody else who sees the things you see." 


	11. Chapter 12

"Oh, am I disturbing something?"

John stretched and rubbed his eyes. When had he fallen asleep? He pushed himself up carefully trying not to disturb Sherlock, the man needed a good sleep after everything he had been through.

John rubbed a hand over his hair trying to smooth it down though he was sure Mrs Hudson had seen him with baby sick in his hair a couple of times when Hamish was a baby.

"No, not disturbing anything."

Mrs. Hudson let go of Hamish's hand and he confidently walked over to his spot on the rug and pulled his box of toys out. Mrs. Hudson walked out and looked down at Sherlock.

"I always preferred him when he was sleeping."

John gave a little chuckle.

"Yeah, shame it doesn't happen as often as it does for most people."

"They look so alike don't they?"

John turned to look at Hamish and back at Sherlock, they did look alike, more than just the hair and eyes John could see that under all the puppy fat Hamish's features were similar. In fact he had trouble seeing his mouther in him though John knew there must be some signs of her somewhere.

"Yes."

Hamish walked over to him holding one of his new science kits.

"Play?"

"Yes, but in your room because uncle Sherlock is sleeping now."

Hamish looked over at his father and tilted his head slightly. All of a sudden he was on his feet and running out of the room.

"Are you okay dear?" Mrs. Hudson asked looking at him with slight concern.

"I'm okay. I'm glad to have him back,really."

"I know you are." She shrugged. "But sometimes things are complicated."

"Tell me about it."

"Are you going to need me tonight? It's just I have Bingo."

"It's okay, you've done more than enough thank you Mrs. Hudson."

"It's okay, you two do need some alone time together." She said walking out the door.

John felt the desire to sigh and say 'we're not a couple' but it seemed that it may be heading in that direction. The sound of little feet soon disturbed him from that thought as Hamish ran back in with the dinosaur teddy he had brought the day before. He laid it down on the sofa next to Sherlock.

"Hamish, what are you doing?"

"Shirley can snuggle him."

"That's very nice of you, good boy." John said wondering how pissed off Sherlock would be if he took a picture of him with the teddy and sent it to Lestrade, once Lestrade knew he was alive of course.

"Unkie play!" Hamish whined.

"Shush." John said holding his finger up to his lips. "Go play in your room I'll be one minute." John said.

Hamish didn't;t listen and followed him into the kitchen. John was aching for a cup of coffee.

"Bicwick?"

"Biscuit, and no. I'm sure Mrs. Hudson gave you biscuits."

Hamish nodded his head, the good thing about having a toddler was that he had not quiet learnt the idea of lying yet.

John dumped coffee and sugar into a mug and turned on the kettle.

"Do you want some milk?"

"Yes!" Hamish said jumping up and down excitedly.

"Mrs. Hudson definitely gave you biscuits." John moaned.

"Milk!" Hamish commanded.

John sighed again and went to the fridge, bad point about toddlers they didn't;t understand patience. He poured milk into a plastic cup for Hamish and handed it to him telling him to be careful and finished making his coffee.

"Alright then." He said taking a sip. "Lets go do sciencey things."

"Yeah!"

* * *

><p>Looking at the mess of dyes and plastic tubes on the floor. Hamish had got distracted from the experiment (and though John was good with the science equipment in his own right, he was a doctor, he had no idea what the point in mixing the three little dyes was) and was drawing on the box. John was able to get him to concentrate for a few minutes on a little plastic tube of metal filings and a magnet but really he doubted Sherlock would be turning Hamish into his science assistant for another for years. Talking of Sherlock he had just appeared at the door.<p>

"How long was I asleep?"

"Um.." John looked down at his watch. "About four hours."

"He opened the science kit?"

"Yeah but I don't think he's all that interested. It does say four plus on the box."

"It looks useless and flimsy to begin with. I'll show him how to use my microscope later."

"He won't understand at least not for a couple of years. You have to be patient Sherlock, teach him things in order."

"The things most people teach children are trivial and useless."

"Reading and math isn't trivial and useless. He could start to learn how to read soon. I brought a book on how to teach phonics."

"Yes, he should learn how to read. Theres no point in swaddling him."

"Well, we agree on something then."

"Look!" Hamish said holding up the box lid with its squiggles; of blue and red pen on the plain inside.

"You, Unkie John, me, and the dinosaurs."

Sherlock looked down at the indeterminable lines and circles.

"Why are you taller than me?"

Hamish looked down at the picture.

"That you, that me." Hamish repeated pointing to the picture again.

"And I'm smiling."

"It's a lovely picture Hamish, shame we can't put that one on the fridge. It has too go back on the box so we don't lose any of these tubes." John picked up the scattered tubes and pieces putting them back in the box.

"Tubes." Hamish said picking one up and throwing it haphazardly into the box.

"Good..." John felt a vibration at his hip just before some infernal song started to play. John pulled his phone out and checked the I.D.

"Lestrade." He mouthed to Sherlock before going out the room and answering the phone.

"Hey Greg."

"Do you have any idea how much havoc that one box has caused? It's across apartments. Eighty percent of the Met is working on it."

"Lots of criminals to be put away, that's got to be a good thing though."

"Yeah, it's a good thing but this box has important information that can bring down criminal organizations across the globe. It's more work than our boys could put together in ten years. Another thing is that half the trails we've been following from these files are cold because the perps are already dead or missing. Half of them seem to have killed each other off, the ones still alive are the little or mid level criminals not the really bad guys and also we have to work out deals with the police forces in eighteen other countries."

"Eighteen, really?"

"It's a nightmare John. The least you could do is tell me where this information is coming from."

"You said you knew."

"Oh for gods sake John! How long have we known each other? this isn't Mycroft, he wouldn't bother with this sort of thing. He's queen and country and blurred morals, he wouldn't care about this sort of thing."

"And who do you think would care?"

"The only person I can think of is dead."

John took a deep breath. Was now the time? Maybe only Lestrade had to know, he could help clear Sherlock's name. Lestrade never really believed that Sherlock was a fake. On the few occasions when they had talked about Sherlock over beers Greg had told him about how much he actually respected Sherlock. How he had a grudging respect for the way that Sherlock didn't give a dam about other people or the rules of the police force. That was the way law should be, get the guy and forget about the paperwork and the politics.

But John knew it wasn't the time yet, Sherlock wasn't ready. And so he lied, to his friend to give his lover a little more time to adjust and to recover from his ordeal.

"That's a low blow Lestrade."

"Come on, you know I wish he was still around."

"Yeah, look how about some drinks. Chillout if works so stressful."

"You're not going to tell me are you? Honestly Greg, I could have you brought in."

"Then do that."

"Look, John, I get you being secretive about some matters. I mean, I never interfered or asked when Hamish turned up. That's your private life and if you don't want to talk about it I get it. But you can't expect to pull a stunt like this and just have me back down."

John sighed, obviously Lestrade was going to find out at some point soon and he wasn't able to protect Sherlock for ever. He could only buy him time.

"Look, I'll tell you, just give me time."

"How much time?"

"However much you can give me. Look Greg, I trust you but this... this is a bit of a fucked up situation and the longer you give me to sort things out on my end the easier he's going to be to deal with."

"He? John what are you on about?"

"Just promise me, more time, whatever you can give."

"There's a dozen people breathing down my backs right now John. I can only give you a day at most."

John made a quick decision, it might not be the one that Sherlock would make but he was good at thinking on his feet as well, the army had taught him that. Think fast or get blown up.

"Then come here tomorrow morning. Alone. You'll see for yourself what the situation is then."

"Situation? John are you in trouble, because you know I can help you John." The worry in his tone was pretty touching.

"No, I'm not in trouble."

"But is somebody else?"

Dam him Lestrade certainly did know what he was doing sometimes.

"Yes, but I can't tell you anything else right now."

"I'm coming over."

"No! Greg! Greg!"

He had already put the phone down. John swore and looked around. Best to get it over with quickly he told himself forcing himself to go back into Hamish's room where Sherlock was sat on the bed frowning at a couple of stuffed toys that Hamish was making dance across his lap.

His frown grew in intensity when he looked up and saw John stood in the doorway.

"What is it?"

John ignored him.

"Hamish, put your toys away. Uncle Greg's coming to visit."

"Greg?" Sherlock said as if he was wondering where he'd heard the name before.

"You mean Lestrade?"

"Yes."

"Danmit." Sherlock stood up immediately and headed for the door. There was an awkward moment when he reached the door frame and John spread out his hands to stop him.

"John move out of my way I've got to go hide in the cellar apartment."

"No. Look Sherlock, you told me to give Greg some kind of criminals Pandora's box and now he and the whole Met are demanding to know where the information came from. He's going to find out sooner than later and perhaps if it's sooner then he can help to put off others who might start looking for you."

Sherlock tilted his head to one side.

"John, I don't want to be drawn back into this. I've had two and a half years of dealing with these people I'm not going to let them force me back into hunting them down again."

"They won;t force you Sherlock."

"They'll force me by their general incompetence."

"That's more to do with you than them."

"I'm not incompetent."

"No." John sad closing his eyes for a moment. " That's not what I meant."

"And when did you start calling him Greg?" Sherlock said looking down at him with narrow eyes. John was a little surprised by the sudden change in conversation.

"Since you made me pull that all nighter in the lab on that funny case with the blonde woman and the spots."

"And Hamish calls him Uncle, really John, what's going on here?"

John looked down at Hamish who was curiously watching them as he hugged his blue teddy.

"There's no reason to be jealous Sherlock." John said stepping aside and following Sherlock as he walked quickly to the front door.

"Jealous, I'm not jealous."

"Actually I think you are."

"Well, yes I am. But don't I have a reason to be jealous, my sons calling another man uncle."

"He calls me uncle."

"That's different, you're his father."

"What? Sherlock, you're his father."

"Maybe biologically,but we both know you're really his the other way, the way that counts. Well to him at least."

"Sherlock.."

"No, I'm not jealous of that. It's better that way. I like it that way, it's how it should be. But you calling Lestrade Greg isn't."

John reached out and rested his hand against Sherlock's shoulder trying to get him to concentrate on what he was saying.

"Look, Lestrade is just my friend. He's got to know Hamish.."

"We were just friends."

"No." John said shaking his head. "Things were always different between us Sherlock. We were always something else, I don't know what but you and I were never going to be just friends."

There was silence for a moment as Sherlock looked at him in that odd way that made John feel as if he were looking at more than what most people could see when they looked at him.

"I thought you weren't gay." Sherlock said with his signature smile.

John laughed at the sudden end to their argument.

"Yeah, well.. Anyhow, meet Lestrade with me. Trust me, I won't let anything happen that you don't want to happen."

"Okay."


	12. Chapter 13

Sorry for the wait on this one, I've been a little short on time lately. Still, if you are still there enjoy the chapter.

* * *

><p>John took a deep breath. He shook his head and slowly breathed out through his mouth. It didn't help, still feeling like the whole world was going to collapse and the peaceful two years he'd had were over. There was another knock on the door, louder than that of two minutes previous. John plastered a fake smile onto his face knowing that he wasn't fooling anybody.<p>

"Hi Greg." John said as normally as he could.

Greg Lestrade was leaning against the wall looking exhausted. He looked up at John.

"You're not fooling anybody."

"I know." John sighed. "You'd better come in then."

John stood aside and Greg walked in.

"Is Hamish safe?"

"Of course. Look, nobody is in danger. I didn't mean to worry you I'm just not sure how to handle this situation."

"Hamish, come say hello to your uncle Greg."

John knew he was calling Hamish over not to confirm to Greg that he was okay but to just delay the inevitable for a few more minutes. Hamish walked calmly in and looked up at Greg.

"Hello."

"Hello little man, how are you?"

"M, okay."

"What have you been up to then?" Greg said bending down to Hamish's level.

"Saw dinosaurs! Sand got new toys."

"That sounds fun who did you go see the dinosaurs with?"

"Unkie John and Shirley."

Greg glanced up at John.

"New girlfriend?" He said smirking. "It's been a while."

John sighed audibly.

"You have no idea."

Greg must have noticed his turn because he stood back up.

"Come on, tell me what's going on then."

"Umm..."

John knew that he could hold it off any longer, it was time to face the music. He just hoped he could save Sherlock from any interviewing or more news stories, the man need time to recover from his experiences, physically as well as mentally.

"Hamish, could you please go fetch your Uncle Sherlock and then go to your room while we talk. If you're good you can have a treat later."

John warily watched Greg as he talked, as he said the name Sherlock he saw his eyes narrow.

"Park?" Hamish asked.

"Yes, Park and ice cream if you stay quiet, you can play with your new Dino toy."

"Okay." Hamish said brightly before running out into the front room.

Greg glanced nervously at John. John had to wonder what it was that was going through his mind at that particular moment. Did he think John was going insane out of grief, it would be a bit late for that but some people hold onto things. Perhaps he thought that John had managed to find somebody else called Sherlock and had taken him in out of memory of his friend. Perhaps he even suspected the truth.

John didn't have to wait long because a few long seeming seconds later Sherlock appeared in the doorway. John looked between him and Greg. To start with Greg's expression did not change, then his eyes fixed on Sherlock and his mouth dropped open.

"Is.. I ... Good Lord.." Greg sputtered after a moment.

Sherlock gave a frustrated shrug. This did not bode well.

"Yes, Yes, I'm alive, John has known for the past two years as has Molly Hooper, It came as a complete surprise to Mrs. Hudson and Mycroft though. In other news John and I had sex and I was the one who provided you with that box though I think you have figured that one out already. Oh! And Hamish is my son, his mother was a dominatrix who tried to blackmail the British government and who used to have a Leathery Lesbian relationship with princess Beatrix. I mean there was a lot of leather involved, not that their skin has a leathery quality, well I can't speak for the princess Beatrix. So now you're all caught up. No , I will not come to the station with you."

"Sherlock!" John shouted.

"What?"

"You can't just pile that all on one person at once." Takes a step forward and lowers his voice. "And I would appreciate it if you didn't give personal information like that out."

Lestrade seemed shell shocked.

"Princess Beatrix?"

"Yes."

"I think he'll win six degrees of separation for the next twenty years." John tried to Joke. "I had sex with somebody who had sex with a princess wins every time."

"Well you're only one more 'I had sex' behind me."

"Hes joking, I've never had sex behind him." John laughing and running his hand through his hair. "I'm a purely face to face kind of guy."

"You were';t face to face this morning."

Lestrade's face dropped.

"Wait a minute. You two are.. you know.."

"Greg, it's complicated." John started.

"Yes, though it is complicated."

"How.. How.."

"Well, he seems to be more of an on top sort of guy." Sherlock said.

"Actually I was going to ask how you're still alive?"

"I missed that one again,didn't I. I never get things wrong twice." Sherlock said looking at John.

"Yes. Hold on a minute, how are you still alive? You never explained it to me."

"You're all so easily distracted."

John crossed his arms.

"I took your pulse myself."

"Didn't your training teach you to always use the pulse point in the neck."

A thought was starting to grow in John's mind. He ran his hand through his hair.

"Oh God, you didn't."

Sherlock smirked.

"Does anybody mind catching me up here?" Greg said looking rather annoyed now.

"He squeezed a ball under his armpit temporarily stopping the flow of blood. . It's an old of people know about it, how could I miss something so simple?"

"I thought he jumped off of Batholomew." Greg said.

John found he had to close his eyes as he suddenly remembered that moment. It didn't matter if Sherlock was alive. For a short while he had though he had lost him, and that short while was the worse time of his life, much worse than the worst days of Iraq. The image of Sherlock's body turning in the air was burnt into his brain, he had nightmares about it.

"Aren't you here about the files?"

"Yeah, yeah I am." Lestrade said. "But excuse me if I get a little side tracked by seeing a guy who I thought had been dead for three years standing in my friends apartment. Not to mention the Hamish and gay stuff, I'm not even going to try taking that in now." Lestrade took a step back and ran his hands through his hair in a familiar gesture."

"I know it's a lot to take in Greg." John said.

"So Hamish is his son?"

"Yeah, he is."

"I should have seen it." Greg said looking at Sherlock still with the expression of somebody who has seen a ghost. "They look so alike."

"Do you want a cup of tea?" John said feeling sympathy for his friend.

"Got anything stronger?"

"Scotch?"

"That will do it."

John stood aside and gestured for him to move into the front room. As John went to the cabinet to pour out a good measure of scotch Sherlock took his place in his old armchair whilst Greg sat on the new kiddie proof couch.  
>John noticed Greg's fingers shake slightly as he took the glass.<p>

"When was the last time you ate?"

"I don't know, yesterday."

"I'll make you a sandwich."

To hope that whilst he was in the kitchen Sherlock and Lestrade would keep to talking about the weather or which Milliband brother was the biggest idiot was frankly wishful thinking. When he returned back with the sandwich Sherlock was pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace.

"What did you say to him?"

"I only asked him where he'd been the last three years."

"I didn't know about Hamish. I know none of you realize this and it took me years to realize myself but I do care about other people, some other people, in some ways. I hate to admit that I have some of the same weaknesses as all of you but dammit it, the great Sherlock Holmes is only Human after all." Sherlock said voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Ah Right."

It seemed that there were some new facets to Sherlock's personality that they would all have to get used to. Sherlock had areas he was sensitive about. Ironic as Greg had always called him an insensitive bastard (though never after his supposed death).

"Greg, Sherlock has had a tough few years. Don;t be judgmental."

"I wasn't being, well maybe a little. I remember what a mess you were when you first got Hamish, a still mourning... wait you couldn't be mourning you knew he was alive."

"He was gone."

Greg stared at John open mouthed again. He looked between Sherlock and John.

"You really love him?"

"Oh don;t sound so surprised." Sherlock huffed.

"I.. I care deeply.. I .. I missed him." John tried to explain struggling for the words."

"God, I never realized, and all those times I tried to set you up with Gemma's sister."

"I'm not gay." John sighed. "I'm just gay for him."

"Right.." Greg looked between the both of them and took a bite from his sandwich.

"So.. Uh.. the box. All those files."

"Moriarty's web."

"According to most people Moriarty doesn't exsist."

"Wait, Isn't there enough information in that box to prove Moriarty was behind it all."

"Some people are thinking it's some kind of set up."

"Some people are idiots." Sherlock muttered.

"I agree with you on that one, but there's not much I can do about it until we've worked through it all and made sure that it's all legit. I know you're trying to clear you're name Sherlock, but it may be months yet."

Sherlock nodded.

"All we want is for Sherlock's name to be kept out of this until you can definitely prove Moriarty was behind a lot of those crime organizations."

Lestrade let out a long breath between pursed lips.

"You don' ask for a lot do you?"

Lestrade finished his sandwich and stood up.

"I've got to go, somebody will notice I'm gone eventually."

"What are you going to do?" Sherlock asked.

"I've got to think about it. This is a lot to take in. But I think you're going to have to call him."

"Mycroft? No." John said.

"He could pull strings." Sherlock said.

John turned to him surprised.

"But.."

"I do not forget what he has done John. But If I need his help to stay with you and Hamish then I am not to proud to ask."

John nodded. He did not want Mycroft to get involved in their little newly put together family. The man was ruthless and seems to lack his brother sense of morality (Sherlock did have morals, if he didn't then he could easily have made millions with his mind, instead he had chosen to solve crimes). A favor from Mycroft seemed to come with a price, even for his brother. But, as Sherlock said needs must. Nothing in the world was going to take Sherlock away from him again.

"I'll hold off the questions as long as I can John, but considering the seriousness of these charms and the stress it's put on everybody and the fact that the media has some how picked it up." Greg sighed. "It might put a permanent black mark on my record."

"You think they will suspend you?"

"I think they will force me behind a desk for the rest of my working life."

"Is it really that big?"

"John, it's global. And as I 'discovered' the box it's my neck on the line."

"You'd think that would make you there reigning hero."

"It did, until everybody realized how much over time and red tape they were going to get wrapped up in."

"Screw the red tape." Sherlock growled.

"Only you're allowed to do that Sherlock." Greg smiled then his face grew serious and his voice a little emotional.

"I'm glad you're back Sherlock. I can't believe it but I'm glad."

"Sherlock gave a small smile and offered Greg his hand. They shook hands and then Greg turned to leave.

"Take care of yourselves, and Hamish."

"I would never let anything happen to Hamish."

When Greg had left John turned to Sherlock.

"So... we're calling in a favor from Mycroft?"

Sherlock seemed to grit his teeth slightly.

"Yes."


End file.
